


The Eye of the Storm

by EmeraldDragon12



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, F/M, Fantasy, Magic, Moral Ambiguity, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldDragon12/pseuds/EmeraldDragon12
Summary: 20 years ago, on the close of a great war, all of the enemies of the Kingdom of Auradon were locked away on an island without magic. Now, at the request of the Prince and soon to be King, four of their children are being allowed to leave for the first time.Takes place in a darker, more morally gray universe where "hero" and "villain" aren't so cut and dry. Follows the same general plot as the movie to start, but will quickly take many detours.





	1. Prologue

Fairy Godmother Helmine didn't sleep well the night before casting the spell.  
  
From the start of the Auradon Conference she had been uncomfortable. The blue fairies were the least liked of the fae at the moment, which was understandable. The traitor Maleficent and her strongest supporters had come from that clan. And Helmine, as the current delegate of her clan, was the recipient of the collective ire. It was necessary, of course. Human could not be trusted to handle these things themselves. Representatives of the four fairy factions were present to advise as needed.  
  
And so she donned her fanciest blue dress, with her wings squeezed to her back and her cobalt hair pulled straight. She sat at the northern corner of the diamond table. Her counterpart in the red fairies, Ardis she thought, was across from her. The unfamiliar green and yellow fairies sat at the east and west corners, respectively. Each of the four sides held three human delegates; the kings or queens of the countries they represented. There was one exception. General Mulan, on the southwest side of the table, was acting in place of the Emperor of China.  
  
At the vote for High King, she had been annoyed. King Adam, the former Beast of France, was elected with a nine to three majority. None of the royals had consulted the fairies on this decision. Which was to their detriment, because Helmine had a great many things to say about the new High King. He was a passionate man, whose wife had done little to still his violent temper. His personal, though understandable, vendetta with Maleficent further hindered his average intelligence. Furthermore, King Adam possessed a barely repressed hatred for most fae.  
  
Even so, he was now the High King, and would preside over the rest of the Auradon Conference, and later the United Kingdom of Auradon. Never mind that the idea of human alliances was silly. An alliance between kingdoms was wise, unification into one was efficient. The fae had lived that way for millennia. The notion that humans could do the same had sent Helmine rolling out of her chair laughing when she heard it.  
  
During most of the discussion, Helmine was bored. The aristocracy could not discuss anything without endless politicking and pandering. Even if they hadn't, Helmine had little interest in the human's parliament or military structure. She listened long enough to think of better alternatives, then tuned them out.  
  
When someone suggested forming a new school, Helmine was finally interested. She had dedicated herself to the education and protection of the young, fae and human alike. The idea came from King Henry of Charmington, further increasing her esteem for the husband of her former charge Ella. He wanted to establish a preparatory school for the future leaders of the new kingdom of Auradon. Here they could learn from each other and gain the collective wisdom of their elders to make each new generation better than the previous.  
  
"However," he said, with a look at Helmine. "No human leader can be trusted to head this school. Our shifting alliances, our constant bickering, no, I would not trust any on my rivals to teach my children, and I know none of you would either." There was some murmur of dissent, which died down as the nobles realized they were proving his point. "Instead this school would require an impartial Headmaster, or perhaps, Headmistress. I would nominate the Fairy Godmother Helmine for this high honor."  
  
There was an understandable uproar at his declaration. Most of the disagreement centered around her clan were its deplorable, banished members. Only High King Adam objected to the idea of fairy headmistress in and of itself, his position giving weight to his opinion. For her part, Helmine chose not to be offended, as the attacks and slurs were against her people, and not herself personally. Instead, she focused on the irony of the situation. Wars long forgotten had been waged over fairy possession of noble children; now they debated giving them to her wholesale.  
  
The voice of King Henry finally won out over the others. "Silence! There are two separate matters entangled in this issue. Are there first any objections to a fairy headmistress?" Adam twitched as though he intended to raise his hand, but stopped when he saw he was alone. "If we are to have a fairy headmistress, then I see no reason for it not to be Helmine. She is an exemplary member of both her clan and fairykind as a whole. It was this very same Helmine who was responsible finding me my Ella."  
  
"That certainly proves her craftiness," remarked a king Helmine didn't recognize. "Getting a servant girl married to a prince."  
  
"That's my wife you're talking about," Henry yelled, slamming both hands on the table. "Who would have been a duchess herself if not for her wicked stepmother."  
  
This went on for some time, with different royals using varying levels of subtly to express their opinions. Then a second hush fell over the conference as General Mulan stood. "Your Majesties, I have remained quiet thus far, for it would be improper to interrupt royalty. But I can hold my tongue no longer. In all this time, during all this discussion, we have not asked Helmine herself, nor any of the other fairies what they think of this suggestion." She sat back down, and looked at Helmine with interest.  
  
For the first time during the conference, Helmine felt a surge of warmth towards a human, and slight twinge of fear at being put on the spot. She suppressed this, and stood before the council with all the dignity of her race. "There are several things I would like to say on this matter. First, it saddens me that many a fairy I once called sister has been the cause of so much pain. The blue fairy clan has already publicly denounced Maleficent and her followers. Allow me to express my personal condolences for those lost in our war with her, and my censure of her behavior. I hope that through my words and deeds, I can prove that the true nature of a blue fairy is not that which is found in our Betrayer.  
  
"Second, as a fairy godmother, it is my first and foremost duty to protect and aid the next generation. In the past this has manifested in helping those in need, but that need not be the only way I serve. In fact, my primary passion is education. Teaching and guiding youth towards greater heights, and seeing the fruits of my efforts there, warms my heart more than any other thing in the mortal world. However, regardless of whether or not you pick me to headmistress of this school, I implore you to choose some fairy. It is in our very nature to teach and guide, to champion virtues and pass them on to children. It would be prudent, and wise," here she smiled at her joke, "to place such champions in charge of your children's education."  
  
Helmine resumed her seat with a short bow, and found herself receiving an ovation from her fellow fairies and Mulan. There was further discussion, because no human king could allow a fairy the last word, but it all seemed directed towards assent. When the final vote was called, the council elected to appoint her headmistress with a nine to two vote. High King Adam abstained.  
  
As the discussion turned to other matters, Helmine felt a swell of pride. It appeared attending the Auradon Conference had benefited her after all. She might have complained less to her queen if she had known she would achieve a teaching position. She still wasn't enthusiastic about the sitting through the discussions that followed, but at least she was in a better mood now. By now it was later in the afternoon, and it looked as thought the conference was drawing to a close for the day. The nobles were stretching, stifling yawns, and generally trying to stay awake. There was a spell she had been working on with her colleague Adrian; if the talk finished soon they would have time to test another variation. When Adam stood, the expectant looks on the assembled faces showed a hope to finish for the day. This hope was not met.  
  
High King Adam started off by thanking the dignitaries and fairies for their time. Then he moved on to a summary of the past seven years, beginning with Belle breaking Maleficent's curse. This initiated a war with the dark fairy and her followers, that spread into a war through all of Auradon. Since most of the people present, human and fairy alike, had fought in this war, the reason for the council in the first place, the synopsis seemed unnecessary to Helmine. When Adam moved on to specific grievances, Helmine realized its purpose.  
  
He recounted the cursing of Aurora which brought King Stephan of Dammerung into his alliance. How Maleficent sought out Jafar's lamp, and wished only that he reek his vengeance on Agrabah. How she used her dark magic to resurrect the witch Grimhilde, infamous as the Evil Queen, and set her upon Queen Snow White and the Enchanted Forest. How she hired Cruella de Vil to torture and dissect rival fairies.  
  
Adam was an excellent orator. Helmine knew, she knew that he was stirring them up, and she couldn't help but get angry. The thought of what that fiend did to her sisters stirred a righteous anger in her that required all her rational skills to suppress. As she glanced around the table, she saw clenched fists, furrowed brows, and rigid posture. Adam's speech was working on the others.  
  
"Friends," the High King said as he made his purpose clear, "We sit here at the close of a great war with the worst fiends history has ever known. We may never know the full cost of our struggle, not only in lives, but in our hearts and minds. My brothers in arms, fellow kings and queens, and fairies wise, kind, passionate, and courageous, we cannot allow these villains to go unpunished. Not because of past transgressions, but for future security. For our children, and theirs, and the safety of this new nation."  
  
A pause, no doubt for dramatic effect. "I propose a prison, an island jail sealed with a barrier from the world and magic itself. Only then can we know we will be safe from their evil.  
  
The Beast had chosen the opportune time to strike. Waiting until his audience was sleepy, but not too tired. Working them into a patriotic fervor and then inspiring them with hope for the future. Despite this, absolute silence filled the room as he finished. Helmine was pleased to see most of Auradon's leaders looked uncomfortable at his suggestion. She suspected they thought the villains had already received their due punishment for their crimes and were therefore exempt from future retribution. Even as she began to hope the council would make a wise decision, King Eric stood up.  
  
"If there is anyone deserving such a fate it is the sea witch Ursula. My wife is still plagued by nightmares of that tentacled monster, and my people have yet to recover from the damage she reeked on our land." With that, the dam was broken. Every King and Queen wanted to make the case for why their particular enemies deserved such a punishment. It was a competition of human stupidity and cruelty she hadn't seen since, well, since the war.  
  
Then, as the humans were starting to calm down, the yellow fairy stood. Helmine smiled to encourage her, for surely hers would be a voice of reason. Perhaps there was a chance that kindness could win the day "Your Majesties, if I may speak." Her head was bowed, her face flush with all eyes pointed towards her. "It ... it is not in my nature to hold grudges. My clan values harmony, and compassion above all things." Her voice, hesitant at first, grew stronger with each word spoken. "We believe it is better to forgive and forget, to leave the past in the past. But..."  
  
_Oh fuck me for trying._ It took took all Helmine's willpower not to swear aloud. _By the damned cities of the ancient lands, why?_ Never in the history of speeches was a more pregnant pause produced.  
  
"...even I cannot let this go unpunished. Maleficent has wrought horrible crimes against kin, clan, and kind. She has committed unspeakable acts to both fairy and human alike. If there is to be harmony, if we are to one day have peace, then it must begin with her exile."  
  
As the punishment was discussed and the vote was cast, Helmine thought of all the problems they were creating. _They are perpetuating the cycle. By lashing out in righteous anger, they become the very things they seek to punish. Every one of those people who fought against them thought themselves just as justified as they do now. How does the phrase go? Every villain is a hero in their own story? And worse, the punishment they demand is disproportionate to any crime committed. Only a man with no knowledge of magic would suggest cutting another off from it. It is the very energy that we live on, the air that we breathe, our everything. And the others, too blinded by their grief to realize what they are doing._  
  
The votes were made, and the decision was unanimous. An island off the coast of Charmington would be cleared and renovated to serve as the prison. And a barrier would be erected around the island to prevent those within from using magic. Adam addressed her specifically on that matter. "Fairy Godmother Helmine, I understand that you have worked on such a spell before. Something that you used during the war. Perhaps you could do the honors of casting this one and prove your position as headmistress to be well earned.  
  
_Then maybe you could go to hell,_ Helmine thought. But she recognized the threat, and wanted the job more than she would like to admit. "Of course, Your Majesty. It would be my honor."  
  
“Excellent,” he declared, his smile very much like the snarl of a wolf. “Then I believe that will be all for today. We will have to reconvene tomorrow to discuss…”

As Helmine trudged back to her room, she was in a fear-ridden stupor. On any other day she would have been disgusted by the decadence on display. The council had ordered the building's construction for this meeting, and yet they couldn't have a three day conference without their creature comforts. That evening she was too occupied with her own worries to notice exquisite paintings or dazzling tapestries. And though every fixture and furnishing contained bits of iron, she didn't think about her unconscious shudder as she passed them.  
  
_...and putting them together is sure to make them worse. It is one thing to have a prison, with inmates separated by bars. It is quite another to give them free reign of an island. Surely the worst will take from each other, both skills and knowledge, and crush or corrupt the merely bad. And what of children? Such free mixing is sure to produce many a bastard offspring. Are they to be condemned to their parents fate because of the location of their birth. And of course all of this is moot argument, because the very idea of an island without magic is unconscionable. These humans, inflicting their ideas on others without a thought to how it affects other species. It almost makes you wonder..._  
  
Helmine pulled up short, between the yellow fairy's room and a sculpture of some mer-king. She had come very close to siding with Maleficent, even for a moment, and just in her thoughts. Whatever Adam's faults, he was the very definition of the lesser of two evils. And she must play her part in his game, distasteful as it was, because the alternative was ... Maleficent. She shuddered at the thought.  
  
It was better to focus on the technical aspects. Wisdom was what blue fairies were famous for, but also intellect and spell-craft. She would work out the details of the spell and let the nobility deal with the repercussions. For self-serving wisdom is still a type of wisdom.

 

It took the better part of a month for the newly established Auradon Magic Council to locate, spell, and collect every criminal to be imprisoned on the island. It's possible they were delayed due to over-zealousness. Once they identified a single member of Maleficent's army, they tended to spell anyone in the same prison. Better to be safe, rather than sorry, they reasoned. But transportation-safe sleeping curses take time to cast, extra time which Helmine appreciated.  
  
Her research had not gone well. As far as she knew, she had tried every version, every conjuration style, every casting chant. There wasn't a single spell designed with this level of scale up in mind, let alone for the duration she needed. She had exhausted every spellbook in not only her personal library, but the blue fairy library as well. As much as she hated it, she was going to need outside help.  
  
Adrian of the Enchanted Forest, Warlock 1st Class, friend, colleague, and occasionally something more, lived in a rundown apartment in London. At least, it appeared so from the outside. Helmine knew from experience this was an illusion to deter would-be thieves. She was used to ringing his bell and walking right in. Today, she had to wait five minutes listening to latches being undone. When Adrian came to the door he was even more disheveled than normal. He would usually wear stained pants and a singed, tie-dye shirt, but he had added a pink bathrobe, three days of scruff, and deep bags beneath narrowed eyes. "Come to take me away too, Fairy Godmother?"  
  
She was taken aback, by his formal tone and dark insinuation. "How do you mean, Master Warlock?"  
  
He sneered, an expression she had never seen on him before. "Word on the street is they're rounding people up. Anyone with a finger-full of magic and a hint of a dark past. And now I have the new, grand, Fairy Headmistress condescending to brighten my doorstep. What am I supposed to think?"  
  
"Rounding people up?" she asked. "The only ones being rounded up are Maleficent's followers. Everyone else is safe."  
  
He stared her down, and for the first time Helmine understood how his students must feel. Something in her face must have conveyed innocence, because they changed from narrowed to merely exhausted. "You don't know. You really don't know."  
  
"What?" She felt her voice rising and fought to control it. "What's going on Adrian? What don't I know?"  
  
"They're taking everyone Helmine. Everyone. Adam's gang of thugs, going door to door rounding up anyone they don't like."  
  
She almost couldn't believe it. She knew Adam had a chip on shoulder the size and shape of a large furry curse, but she didn't realize how far he would go. "Who all...?"  
  
"Who haven't they taken? Three wizards down my street alone. A quarter of my students, with half of who's left on the run. I've had to cancel classes just so we wouldn't be vulnerable." His eyes locked on hers for a moment. "Yen Sid. Because he advocated some of the criminals be pardoned, was declared treasonous and taken in for his trouble."  
  
Two conflicting feelings rose up within her then. Her bleeding heart, the voice of compassion that called her to protect and care for, wept for those who were being unfairly imprisoned. But another voice, the voice of thought and reason, said something else. Didn't the villainy of Maleficent and her lieutenants outweigh what it would cost to imprison them? Wasn't it worth it, to ensure the dark fairy would never plague the land again?  
  
Fighting the keep her tone neutral, Helmine said, "I will see what I can do. Perhaps I can petition on their behalf to release the innocent."  
  
Adrian was quiet for a moment before asking, "Why did you come here then, if you didn't know?"  
  
"You know they asked me to cast the spell to make the barrier?" She waited until he nodded to continue. "I seem to have trouble with the size. None of the spells I know work properly at the scale of a whole island. I was wondering if you might know of a solution."  
  
The sorrowful expression on Adrian deepened. For a while Helmine feared he might not answer. Then, as she was preparing to ask again, he said, "It's not a question of scale, it's a question of approach. That's where we went wrong before. You're not trying to cast a spell; you're cursing the land and the people who will live on it." Then he retreated back into his house. Locks and latches clicked, leaving Helmine with the unmistakable impression that something precious was lost forever.  
  
Adrian's advice was good. In fact, with the approach he suggested Helmine was able to modify what she already had into a working curse that same afternoon. She did her best to repay him. When she reported to the Auradon Council that the curse was ready, she asked about the people who were to be imprisoned. She received some well spun yarn about those who were taken deserving their fate. When she tried to push for more, Adam directed her to focus on her part in the matter, and to let the Council focus on theirs. He thanked her for her concern, and told her to start working on the curse tomorrow.

 

And so, anxious over Adrian, worried for those unfairly incarcerated, nervous about the morality of her actions, fearful of Maleficent's revenge, and tired to boot, Helmine flew to the Isle of _Calignis_ to begin her work. She spent the entire day encircling the island in runes. This was made difficult by a number of factors. There were few places on the edge of the island ideal for carving runes. She ended up conjuring stone pillars from beneath the island to place in the ocean surrounding it. There was also the problem of shape. Obviously the island itself was not a perfect circle. Helmine found herself backtracking to adjust the stones more times than she could count. In the end, she had to include a second island which lay within the bay of _Calignis_ to make the circle work. Of course there was also the dwarves. All day long they carted more prisoners in on boats. Each time this happened Helmine had to stop her work and attend to them. She had decided to place secondary curses on each known magical on the island, as an extra precaution. With all of these distractions, she barely made it halfway around the island before sunset.  
  
In the end, it took her three days to finish the runed perimeter. Fortunately, the dwarves had also finished unloading the prisoners by then, so there was no risk of the runes going stale. Once she was sure all of the dwarves were safely in their barges, she began the significantly easier task of casting the curse. While some enchantments could be performed with some magic words and a wave of a wand, the strongest spells were sung into existence. Instead of memorizing exact words, the way she structured the curse only required her to stay in key and on tempo. The curse took the form of a lullaby; she was essentially lulling the magic to sleep in a blanket of protection.  
  
“...keep us safe and keep us sound, no more we fight upon the ground; let the land and people rest, for we all have fought our best. Let no more magic pass this way, lest villains darken all our days. Enclose them in your silvered walls, and so they may live in darkened halls…”  
  
And so and so forth. The barrier began to rise as she sang. It started as low gray mist forming above Helmine’s runes. But slowly it coalesced into a shimmering wall. As the barrier rose past her head, she could feel magic being pulled in to strengthen it. The suffocating feeling was like being trapped in a vacuum, except it was her magical sight that went, not her consciousness. She was still outside the barrier, and could only imagine how bad it would be for those within. As the barrier began to dome, enough magic was pulled away for the prisoners to begin to wake.  
  
The lesser criminals were the first to wake. The common thieves and petty crooks with no magic of their own, who had no doubt joined Maleficent’s army out of desperation. Then the villains like Gaston or Cruella de Vil, who possessed no explicit magical ability, but had a charisma or forcefulness which suggested native magical attunement. Next the true magicians, those aware of their powers and who practiced them openly. Jafar, Grimhilde, misguided wizard’s apprentices, and those poor fey who had been lead astray by the Betrayer. Yen Sid and Maleficent were the last two to wake, their immense personal pool of magic fueling their curses till the very end. Helmine admitted to being more than a little amused when when the Betrayer stirred before the Master Wizard.  
  
Maleficent did not appear groggy or even slightly confused as she rose to her feet. She appeared to have be spared the indignity of the worse side effects of Sleeping Sickness, more’s the pity. Instead she moved slowly, almost lazily towards the docks. An untrained eye would think she was disinterested, perhaps even bored. But those who knew her better could see the truth. How her fingers twitched to spell away a mud puddle or patch of dirt, only to stop unsatisfied. The way she made casual eye contact with her most loyal servants as she passed and the slightest of nods she exchanged with them. The small movements of her lips as she whispered instructions to her goblins, sending them scurrying off to obey. Slowly, ever so slowly, she made her way to the end of the dock, and Helmine felt almost compelled to fly down and meet her.  
  
They locked eyes, and Helmine felt like she was back in Elementary Wand-Work again. “Helmine my dear, what a pleasant surprise.” Maleficent’s voice dripped venom and sarcasm in equal measure. “I gather this … charming little retreat is where you will keep us till you decide a more permanent solution.”  
  
Helmine felt the ridiculous need to prove herself, as though she really were still in school. “No. This is the permanent solution.” She raised her voice to address the entire population of the island. “By order of High King Adam and the Council of Auradon, you have been henceforth and forever banished to this island, to live out your days in a land without magic to serve penance for your crimes against the peoples of Auradon.” The moment she finished the air was filled with a riotous uproar. It was impossible to distinguish any particular grievance, but the general tone was one of perceived unfairness coupled with vows of revenge.  
  
Maleficent, in contrast, merely grinned with teeth bared. “You’ve done a wicked thing today child; I am almost impressed. Your new king commands, and you obey without hesitation, or heed of consequence. But I think you will find it is not I you have made prisoner today. You know this barrier cannot hold me forever. You must be ever vigilant, for if you turn your back even for an instant, I will slip through the cracks and strike at you where you least expect. Heed my words, Fairy Godmother,” she spat the title as a curse, “One day, I will stand above you triumphant; I will take your wand, and with your own magic I will strike you dead.”  
  
Headmistress Helmine didn’t sleep well the night after she cast the curse.


	2. Hada Henkano

**Ben's POV**

Prince Ben, 15 year old king-to-be, was terrified. Not that you could tell by looking at him. He sat straight backed, his posture perfect, at his desk, taking notes in his quick, messy handwriting, looking to all the world a normal, dedicated student. And if he fidgeted with his pencil, or bounced his leg a little more than usual, that was to be expected. After all, he had tests coming up, the big game with the Falcons next week, an anniversary date with his girlfriend to plan… oh and his coronation in three months. Couldn’t forget that. And it wasn’t like anyone was ever truly comfortable during Morality of Ruling and Ethics of Leadership. It was the only class the fairy Headmistress Helmine taught. While the students, in general, considered her a nice person, she tended to expect a little too much from them, both academically and, well, morally. 

 

Despite those potentially anxiety inducing factors, Ben was truly afraid, not just nervous. Because he had a secret, one which could tear the kingdom appart. He had just learned about it last weekend, and now on Friday the Headmistress wanted to talk to him after class. There may be better emotions other than horror to feel right now, but Ben couldn’t think of any.

 

Of course today’s lesson wasn’t making things any easier. Helmine was discussing the concepts of freewill and determinism. “Now most of you are princes and princesses, due to inherit kingdoms by nature of your birth. And even those among us who are not royalty have some legacy passed down to us by our parents. This is the first main argument for determinism: who we are is _determined_ ,” she raised her eyebrows and looked at them meaningfully, “by who our parents are. The circumstances of one’s birth as it were.” 

 

Normally Ben would be more focused on what she was saying. Even though most of his classmates hated her lessons, they actually had practical meaning in their lives. Today he was mindlessly copying down her words without thinking them through. Instead, his thoughts were occupied with more pressing concerns.

 

_How did she find out? And how much does she actually know? Is she planning to just turn me over? But if that was her plan, why would she give me warning? Is she planning to blackmail me? The headmistress doesn’t seem like that kind of person. But then again, Dad always said fairies could be tricky. Who knows what she…_

 

“Prince Benjamin. If you would care to join us.” Ben realized that the Headmistress was, well, not exactly yelling at him. She would never yell at a student, and him least of all. But she was using a tone somewhat louder than her usual teaching voice. He straightened in his seat, face reddening, as his peers put forth a gallant effort to not laugh at their future king. Only a few failed.

 

“Forgive me Headmistress. I was, erm, somewhere else.” He directed his gaze somewhere in the direction of her collarbone, unable to meet her eyes. 

 

“Hmph. As you know, astral projection is a forbidden study at Auradon Prep, so I would ask you to constrain your mind to within your physical form while in my classroom.” Ben hazarded a glance at her face, and saw the smallest upward turn at the corner of her lips. “But now that you’ve returned, I believe I asked you a question. Why should a king care at all whether or not his subject’s fates are predetermined, or if they have free will?”

 

Glad for any distraction, he set his mind to the problem. It seemed a little unfair to him, since surely the whole point of the lesson was for Headmistress Helmine to teach them this very concept. But that wasn’t an answer, and therefore wasn’t helpful. Suddenly, he had an answer, born from his own feelings of blame. 

 

“If they have freewill, then they should be rewarded and punished according to their actions. But if their fate is predetermined, then it’s not really their fault.” He glanced to his right at Audrey and Chad, who winked and nodded towards him respectively. 

 

Headmistress Helmine turned back towards the board and wrote “legal responsibility and punishment” under the differences column, then circled it. “Very good Ben. Or perhaps, exactly as foretold.” She smiled to the class, receiving only eyerolls in return. “This transitions perfectly into your assignment for the weekend.” After an appropriate length pause for grumbling and groaning, she continued. “An essay, no less than three and no more than eight pages, on the differences in structure for a judiciary system in either an entirely predetermined world, or one governed solely by free will. Special attention to the morality of different types of punishment and how they should be assigned. The essay should be primarily your opinion, but feel free to include quotes from other philosophers if you feel they support your ideas. And if you do use quotes, please cite them correctly. Your father may have been a thief Aziz, but I will not tolerate plagiarism in my classroom.”

 

The students took this as their cue that class was over and started packing up. As everyone else left, Ben stood awkwardly by his desk, the uneasy feeling in his stomach hardening into indigestion. Audrey and Chad looked like they were going to wait for him, but he waved them on, not wanting to inconvenience them. Or let them find out about his problem. They hesitated the amount of time expected of friends, but eventually left, promising to wait outside. 

 

As his peers filled out, Ben made his way to the front of the classroom. The Headmistress was slowly packing away her own things, obviously giving herself time for the room to clear. The last student to leave was Jane, Helmine’s own daughter, an intelligent but spacy girl who was more or less allowed to take whichever classes she wanted. Once she left, the Headmistress turned around to look at him. He wished he could tell what she was feeling, but her expression was unreadable. Her brow was furrowed, but her eyes were alight, and her lips kept twitching up and down, unsure whether to smile or frown. 

 

After nearly a full minute of unbearable silence, she finally asked him, “What did you think of the lesson today?”

 

This completely disarmed him. What did the lesson have to do with anything? Normally he would indulge a teacher their curiosity, but today it had taken most of his willpower not to run out in the middle of class, and he just wanted to know what was going to happen so he could prepare for it. 

 

“Headmistress, you wanted to see me after class. I may be wrong but I somehow doubt it was to discuss the subject matter.” 

 

He was starting to fear her smile more than his secret. “Are you sure Benjamin? I think they are entirely related.” She shifted another stack of papers into her bag. Her posture, her maner, her voice, all conveyed the impression this was simply a normal conversation between student and teacher. Then she threw him completely off guard. “I understand that you have decided to quite the Tourney team?”

 

“Yes, I uh, yes I did.” _Was that all she wanted to talk about?_ Obviously he couldn’t stay on the team with his, condition, but that was just a side effect, a symptom, not the real problem. But of course the headmistress would have a vested interest in her school’s sporting accomplishments. _Maybe I’ll get off easy after all._

 

“What a shame. The Knights will be sorry to see you go.” She slid a couple markers into her bag. Ben realized with a start that during their conversation Helmine had moved to the other side of the desk, and seemed to be intentionally avoiding eye contact with him from across the wood furniture. “As I recall, you were unanimously chosen to be captain by the team. What will they do without their fearless leader?”

 

“Well, I don’t, I don’t know if it was unanimous.” Ben tried to take a breath to steady himself without seeming to obvious. What he was about to say was true, even if it wasn’t the entire truth. “I told the team I was stepping down as captain a week ago. My father is expecting me to take on more responsibilities. He wants me to get hands on experience before I start my reign. And it wouldn’t be fair to the kingdom or my teammates to split my time between them.” 

 

Helmine paused in the act of closing her bag. She examined the strap with a frown, as though it were a student caught cheating on a test. Then she fixed him with her gaze, crystal blue eyes meeting rich hazel. She slung her back over her shoulder, but as she did so Ben caught the glint of a metallic powder flying from her hand at his face. He felt it land, peppering his skin. And then…

 

It was as though a thousand hornets stung him at once. Each fleck of metal burned his skin on contact. He tried to claw the dust off, but as he moved his muscles seized and spasmed and he found himself falling to the floor. Unable to stop himself, Ben smashed his head against a nearby desk. The queasiness from before sharpened into full blown nausea, twisting and churning in his gut. He wanted to claw at his skin, to rip out his stomach, to attack the one who did this to him. He wanted to bite and nash and kill and roar! He wanted to die.

 

Suddenly, and with no memory of how he got there, Ben found himself sitting upright in a bed in the school’s hospital wing. He recognized the white sheets, the trays of instruments, and the vaguely antiseptic smell from all his injuries on the tourney field. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he noticed a figure who was not a common sight in this room and immediately recoiled. The action caused his stomach to threaten mutiny, so he settled on moving as close to the far side of the bed as possible. 

 

Headmistress Helmine herself looked deathly pale, even more than normal for a fairy. The moment she saw he was awake she threw herself to her knees at the edge of the bed. Believing he was under attack, Ben curled into a ball, since he was in no state to aggressively defend himself. But to his surprise, Helmine merely keeled next to him, and pleaded with a voice expressing perfect wretchedness.

 

“Your Highness. Please have mercy. I did not mean to do you serious harm. If I had know how strong your reaction would be, I would have chosen a better means to test my suspicions.”

 

For the first time in days, the knot of fear in Ben’s stomach was loosening, and the slightest room was made for a different emotion. Confusion. And so with all of the well ingrained, but infrequently used elegance and dignity he had learned in accordance with his station, Ben asked Helime, “What?”

 

“Sir, I suspected, in fact, even expected that, with you lineage, you would be _hada henkano_ , but I assumed it would be a much weaker form. To react so violently, to such little powder… But the fault is still mine. To so carelessly risk His Highness's life, is unacceptable, and I will do whatever I can to earn your forgiveness. My life is yours.” She said all this with her head bowed, and the sheet of his bed clenched like a lifeline in her fingers.

 

The idea that his life might have been at risk was such an abstract concept to the young prince that his brain rejected it out of hand. Instead he focused on what he was to do with the present situation. When he talked with servants there was a clear relationship of authority and submission. He, in his authority, treated with love and respect those who made his life easier by their very existence, and in return they loved and obeyed him. With his peers at Auradon Prep he was on nearly equal footing, as they were all themselves heirs to one title or another. He had put the Headmistress in the same category as his parents or teachers, people with authority over parts of his life, both because of their superior knowledge and because of the positions they held. But now that whole structure was upset, with Helmine ostensibly believing herself to be in the inferior, subordinate position. 

 

The idea that he wouldn’t forgive her never crossed Ben’s mind. His mother had taught him to always be kind, and to always forgive those whose apologies seemed sincere. But his father had also taught him to use his advantages in every situation, and it was that voice which he listened to first. Trying to sound self-important and powerful, he commanded in his cracking teenage voice, “Tell me what a _hana hednako_ is.”

 

“ _Hada henkano_ ,” she correctly politely. “It means…” she paused to think of the correct word, “skin changer.” Now it was Ben’s turn to turn pale, which was much more impressive with his somewhat darker skin tone. _That would explain…_ But Helmine continued speaking. “The most well known are _okami otoko_ , more commonly known as werewolves. I trust that His Highness knows what werewolves are?”

 

Ben managed a whispered “Yes” in acknowledgement. _A skin changer. What would Father do if he were here?_ There was no question, High King Adam would have Ben shipped off to the Isle faster than he could blink. And if Ben had any integrity at all as a Prince of Auradon, he would kill himself now to remove the blight from his father’s lineage. But in a moment of clarity, he realized he very much did not want to die. Despite certain, recent, difficulties, Ben was very attached to living. With a shock of realization he knew he was more attached to living than he was to pleasing his father, difficult as that was to admit. 

 

“The powder you threw at me was silver wasn’t it?”

 

Helmine glanced up in shock at his knowledgeably, and Ben found himself smiling for finally getting something right today. “Yes it was. Silver is poison to skin changers, just as iron is poison to fairies, or mercury to humans.” The reaffirmation that he could no longer honestly call himself human wiped the smile from his face. He disguised his self-loathing by sliding out of bed and beginning to dress himself. “I did not intend it to hurt as much. Of the three species, skin changers typically have the most mild reaction to their elemental poison. If it is any consolation, this means your animal form must be very powerful.”

 

Ben paused while adjusting his tie to glance at her. He felt a sudden swell of sadness and anger at what he had lost. “No. It isn’t. Is there any way you could prevent any, unwanted use of my abilities?”

 

Helmine stood, her brow furrowed in thought. “I believe so. I suppose it would not do for a prince to suddenly find himself exceedingly hairy in the middle of Council Meeting.”  
“No, I suppose it would not,” Ben said, finding her wry humor amusing in spite of the situation.

 

“There is an old enchantment which a _hada henkano_ can use to repress their abilities when not needed. With you permission, and your ring, I can replicate it.”

 

Ben was more than a little nervous. Not about the enchantment. This was the fairy who had created and maintained the dome around the Isle of Calignis for twenty years, if he couldn’t trust her spell work then he couldn’t trust the integrity of Auradon. But his ring was a symbol of his position as Prince of Auradon, and to give it to a fairy, any fairy, even for a second, seemed foolish in the extreme. He found himself wondering what his father would do, only to be reminded that his father’s reaction would not help him in the slightest. Instead he considered what his mother’s attitude would be. Then he slipped the ring off and handed it to his teacher. 

 

It was a thick band of solid steel perfectly sized to his ring finger, but otherwise identical to the ones worn by all members of Auradon’s 12 ruling families. Spaced evenly around the band were a sapphire, an emerald, a ruby, and a topaz. Engraved on the inside of the ring was Ben’s personal quote, which his parents had chosen for him at his christening: _Faber est quisque fortunae suae_ \- Every man is architect of his own fortune. The steel represented the united strength of humanity bound together in an unending chain, and the gems the four virtues instilled in them by the fairy clans. Someone bearing one of these rings could make almost any request of a citizen of Auradon and expect it to be fulfilled. Until today Ben had worn it as a symbol of pride. 

 

Helmine pulled a small chunk of metal from one of the pockets in her bag. “How much silver do you carry around with you?” Ben found himself asking. 

 

She smiled her odd smile, and replied, “After two hundred years, I have found it always pays to keep plenty of enchanting ingredients on hand.” Which he only realized much later wasn’t really an answer. She held out her hands, his ring in one and the silver in the other. Then she began to sing, an upbeat little tune:

 

“Copy this and make as though  
None shall know you’re copied so.  
Form a ring, form a band,  
Bind it tight to Prince’s hand.  
Circle silver, twin to steel,  
Bring the beastly form to heel.  
Form a sapphire, blue and right,  
Give him wit to guide his might.  
Form an emerald, green and true,  
Give him courage to see this through.  
Form a ruby, red and strong,  
Give power then to right a wrong.  
And form a topaz, yellow, sweet,  
A friend for him in times of need.  
Banded together, in ring of power,  
To keep him safe til the fated hour.”

 

As she finished the ring glowed hot and white in the palm of her hand. Its light became so bright Ben was forced to turn his head. Then, without warning it stopped, and he was left blinking spots out of his eyes. 

 

When he was able to see again, Ben was startled to find his headmistress holding two identical rings in the palms of her hands. If he hadn’t known the fake had been in her left hand before, there would have been no way to tell the difference between the two. Even the fake jewels, which were presumably still just silver, looked identical to their real counterparts. He held out his hand to receive them, and Helmine placed the original in his palm before holding up the fake. 

 

“I warn you Prince Ben, this will hurt when you touch it; even more so when you put it on. Perhaps not as bad as your earlier experience with silver, but certainly enough that you will notice.”

 

Ben was suddenly nervous about taking the ring. _Are my only options to either be in pain all my life, or to always worry of revealing the monster I’ve become?_

 

Helmine’s stern expression softened. “It should not be too terrible. From what I understand, the worst part is the initial shock. Once you acclimate, it becomes more a constant annoyance than true pain.”

 

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice.” He slid the real ring into the pocket of his blazer for safekeeping, then re-extended his hand to his teacher. She dropped the enchanted ring into his hand, and his fist immediately clenched closed at the shock. 

 

The hornets had returned, stabbing over and over into the flesh of his palm, burning into this fingertips. But once the initial jolt died off, the pain subsided into a general ache just beneath the skin. Gritting his teeth in preparation, he picked up the ring with his left hand and gently slid it onto his ring finger. There was another sharp twinge as it settled into the groove left by its twin, which again subsided into the dull throb he realized he was going to have to live with. Out of reflex, he examined his palm, but there were no red marks, no bruising, no sign that any damage had been done at all. Ben remembered something his mother had told him, that during the war it had been difficult to determine how soldiers had been injured, because many magical attacks left no sign of physical harm.

 

“The ring should have any adverse effects on your physical body,” closing his hand with hers to draw his attention. “If you were to actually ingest silver, then it could cause serious damage, the same as when any human ingests mercury. But when it is merely in contact with your skin, the pain you feel is your _hada henkano_ magic being drawn away.” 

 

Ben flinched out of her reach at the mention of “his magic.” _I’m not human anymore. Or, I never was. I am a monster. If my father knew about me._ He felt tears welling at the corners of his eyes, entirely unrelated to the pain in his hand. _Then I guess I’ll just have to been the best monster I can be._ Aloud he said, “Thank you, Headmistress, for your help. I forgive you your earlier actions, as this more than makes amends. If I have any further questions, can I trust in your confidence to keep them between us?”

 

“Of course Prince Benjamin,” she said. As she did, she curtsied, something Ben had never seen her do for any student before, and very few of even the royal parents. 

 

“Actually, I have a question right now. Was the wording you used the normal wording for that enchantment?”

 

One last time, Ben saw Helmine’s fact turn up in that peculiar smile. “There is no normal wording for that enchantment Benjamin. It must be specific for each person.” He was about push the point further, she continued talking without allowing an interruption. “If I remember correctly, you usually are headed back to your home castle by this time on Friday.”

 

Much as he wanted to ask her about the meaning of the words in the spell, she was right. Nothing, not the sudden reveal he was from a different species, would excuse him from missing a family dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hada: Japanese for skin  
> **Henkano: Japanese for changer
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented or kudos the prologue. It seems like you like the idea, so I hope the first real chapter holds up.  
> As for Ben's thought process towards the end of the chapter: if it seems heavy on self-loathing, there's a reason for that. The poor kid was raised with the expectation of being the perfect son to a very anti-magic father. He's going to have a lot of issue to work through now that he's a magical being himself. Which of course is more fun for me. *maniacal laugh*


	3. Faustian Bargain

**Mal's POV**

He lunged toward me, driving his blade forward. I dance sideways and drop the tip of my own sword brining it straight across. The impact of my blade followed by a short circle sends his flying off to the arena’s edge. And the last of the goblins was disarmed. Though it wasn’t necessary, I darted close and flicked my blade up, nicking his face. A thin line of marked him as my victim. He grimaced at the unexpected pain, as I smirked in response. He capitulated, falling to the ground in the loser’s bow, the only sign of respect ever shown on the Isle. 

I gestured up to the crowd and was rewarded with the expected boos and jeers. Bastards wanted blood, and were annoyed I’d barely given them a taste. Whatever. Mom had specifically asked me not to kill any of her minions. Both as an extra test of my skill, and so she didn’t waste a batch of subordinates if I turned out to be a failure in the end. Thanks Mom. 

I glanced over at her seat, at the northern end of the oval arena. It looked as though she hadn’t moved since the match started, still reclined in what passed for a throne here, as though she was only vaguely interested in what happened below her. I hoped she cared more than she showed, since I was her eldest (living) daughter and my life sort of rested on whether or not I won today. 

Once the crowds’ taunts died down, and the goblin had sulked off to join his defeated brethren, Mom stood to address us. Before she spoke, I saw her hand a black bundle to my sister Delilah, and realized she must have been holding Gertrude the whole time. I suppose that was one advantage of Mom’s all black clothing, it made it easier for her to hide things. Or people. 

“Bertha.” Despite the fact that my mother was fifty feet away, her high, icy tone cut through the distance like a hidden knife through a mark’s skin. We might as well have been the only two people in a small room. For the first time in my life I had her undivided attention. For the first time I wondered if maybe I didn’t really want it. “Today is your sixteenth birthday, and as is tradition for fae you have been given an opportunity, an opportunity to prove yourself. To step out from behind the protection of your mother, and prove your right to stand beside her.” I hated how she always used third person when she talked to us. She had never once admitted to birthing us herself, not even in private. Not that I could confront her on it. There were a lot quicker, cleaner ways to die on the Isle than questioning its informal queen, if that’s what you wanted. 

“Ordinarily such a test would require proof of magical competence. But…” For a second, her icy expression twisted with an emotion. It disappeared to fast to make out, but I thought it was anger. If so, I understood. High Shithead and his Council of Fucks had us all trapped in this magic-less hell-hole, and had robbed me, and my sisters, and every other fairy on this goddamned rock of our natural birthright. So yeah, anger seemed appropriate. 

“You have thus shown skill with the blade and competence in our ancient art of _Aita Tsubasa_. You have even recovered my staff, the Dragon’s Eye, from were the traitorous Helmine hid it on the Isle _Malum_.” She stopped, with a deliberately thoughtful expression on her face. Every single person in the arena leaned forward to hear my fate. I did my best to look confident, but in reality it was taking all of my willpower to keep my knees from knocking together and sending the sword on my hip bouncing. “I am not disappointed.” I actually audibly sighed with relief, then mentally slapped myself for showing fear. “However, there is one last test. One last way you must prove yourself.” 

Of course there was. That was the whole point of this. Everything before, the whole tournament, thing, was for her benefit. Showing off, proving her strength through the strength of her minions. And proving it again by showing how good I was at beating them. 

But this last part was for me. My birthday present, I guess. Though I think most people wouldn’t call a fight for their lives much of a present. 

She slammed her staff against the ground, once. And out walked Serena,all sharky grin and cyan hair. The only lieutenant of my mother’s to have been born here on the Isle, Serena Malmaris was many things. She was the eldest daughter of Ursula, the former Sea Witch and still cecaelia. (Although Serena looked fully human, which made you wonder… never mind) She was the older sister to Uma, a girl my age who considered herself my rival since we were four and I dumped shrimp on her head, calling her “Shrimpy.” She was my mother’s youngest, and in some ways most vicious subordinate. When it was tax day in the Docks, Serena would usually start cutting first and demand tribute later. And she had murdered my older sister, four years ago, which is how she earned her position in the first place. Revenge fight? Definitely.

“These two have fought well in this tournament, proving themselves more than capable of serving me. Serena, my trusted Lieutenant these past four years, and Bertha, the challenger.” _Still no recognition? Fuck you Mom_. “But there can be only one winner today. And there can only be way to determine who. Thus far this competition has been a, mostly, bloodless event,” Mother glanced at me, and … was that the barest hint of a smile? My heart swelled and my earlier resentment faded. “But there will be no loser in this trial. Simply a winner … and a corpse.” 

It was the same rules as last time then. I tried to get my head around the fact that I would either be killed, or become a killer. I had spent so much time training, fighting to get to this moment, that I hadn’t really thought about what would come after. It wasn't just pick-pocketing and beating on goblins anymore. If I wanted to live today, I would have to kill. Could I live with that? Did it matter?

Mom slammed her staff against the ground again. Her imps started dimming the lanterns in the stands, until the only ones remaining ringed the arena. With sunset peeking from behind the clouds, my mother's face was cast in a wicked contrast of light and dark. AS night settled in, I wondered if it was possible for her to plan the timing like that. After a minute, the gloom settled in and everything outside our circle of light was dark. 

Once again Mom knocked her staff against the floor, but this time she kept a steady rhythm. Knock, 2, 3. Knock, 2, 3. Knock, 2, 3. A slow, even, beat. Gradually, those in the audience joined in. Some stomping, some clapping. Different sections took up a secondary beat, faster, shorter, adding complexity to the rhythm. A few began to sing, an ominous, low droning noise. Before, when I was watching and joining in, this part had always been spooky, but cool. Now, in the center of it all, I was more than a little creeped out. Each “thud” was my own pulse throbbing in my ears. The moaning hum was the ghost of my sister calling out to me. Try as I might, I couldn't stop a shiver from running down my spine. 

To hide it, and also because it was part of the ritual, I moved towards the eastern side of the field. Serana mirrored me, taking her place on the western end. The rising star verses the setting sun. Or some similar symbolic silliness. To take my mind of the ominous chanting building around us, I did what I do best and sized up my opponent. 

She wasn't just 4 years older than me, she outclassed me in both weight and height. Which wasn't unusual; nearly everyone on the Isle was taller than me. I was used to having to get in close, and fighting under or inside my opponent’s guard. Serena’s cyan hair was still in the stupid dreadlocks both she and her sister insisted on. They came halfway to her waist, and gave me a massive advantage over her if I could get behind her. That was one reason I kept my own purple hair at shoulder length. She did have me beat defensively. My outfit was a collection of purple and green leather or fake leather that I had scrapped together. Serena had an actual set of leather armor, molded in the style of the pirates who worked under her, which might actually deflect a blow or two. 

Rising up from the wordless droning came a chant. “From this deep gloom we summon our doom.” It started with the high voices of other fairies, but gradually more joined in until my opponent and I were encircled by it. The chant repeated, growing louder and louder with each refrain, until it drowned out the thumping and the clapping, till it drowned out my heartbeat, drowned even my own racing thoughts.

And then…

They stopped. No, they were still chanting, but it was a low murmur, so quiet I only imagined I could hear the words. 

“I, Maleficent, true Queen of the Fae...” my mother’s voice cut through the dark. I heard it from my right, where she was probably still standing above us, but it also seemed to come from directly behind me. I fought the urge to look back. 

“From this deep Gloom  
We Summon our Doom”

“Leader of the the Free Peoples of Auradon, Mistress of the Five Colors of Magic…”

“From this deep Gloom  
We Summon our Doom”

“Do call upon you Lord of Darkness, Master of the Pit, and God of Elysium, Lord Hades.”

“From this deep Gloom  
We Summon our Doom”

“Today, two champions stand before your presence, both worthy of your blessing.” In the dark, I couldn’t tell if she meant it, or if it was just part of the ritual. 

“But there can be only one remaining.”

For a moment the chant was replaced by an echo, “Only one, only one, only one.”

“We offer to you the defeated champion, a sacrifice! In return, we ask that you grant the victor the strength of her opponent, that she may better serve you on this earth.”

When Mom finished, the chanting, the drumming, everything stopped. All I could hear was the faint crackle of the distant torches. In the sudden stillness, a flicker of movement caught my eye. Serena was fidgeting with her belts, adjusting her sword… _She’s nervous!_ The girl who had killed my sister and who knows how many others after her, was nervous. It couldn’t be me. I was good and all, but there’s was no way she was worried about me winning. What else was coming? What was she afraid of?

Every muscle in my body tensed up, my heart skipped a beat, my teeth chattered. The cool spring evening was suddenly ice cold. The already thick shadows deepened further, seeming to snuff out every lantern until I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face. Then I heard it. It was a voice like creaking old tree branches, like wind whistling through tombstones, like crackling bones, like cracking ice too thin to walk on, like scraping nails on a chalkboard. It said one word. 

“Agreed.”

The moment the last syllable faded away everything, the light, the sound, the warmth, all came rushing back. I almost could have convinced myself it hadn’t happened, if the memory didn’t stand out like runny paint in a perfect picture. A glance at Serena showed that she had stopped fidgeting. _Was she nervous about about the Voice? And now that it’s past she’s calm again?_ I found myself wondering if that really was Hades. The barrier was supposed to keep out all magic, but if there really was a god of the dead, would he be powerful enough to overcome it? I wanted to think about that, about magic, about how this was the first time in my life I’d gotten to see real magic, but something else kept nagging me. Oh yeah, eminent death at the hands of a pirate. Fun, fun, fun.

Almost a full minute after the Voice stopped, Mom declared the final match had begun. The words had barely left her mouth before Serena was charging at me, sword in hand. I barely had time to draw my gladius and get it over my head to parry her blow. As her momentum carried her past me, I spun to the left, slashing out hoping to land a blow on her unprotected back. But with almost supernatural speed, she whirled and deflected my thrust. Steel clanged against bronze, ringing out in the night air.I was forced to back off rapidly. We began to circle, perhaps a few meters apart.

I hated this part. Whenever I fought with someone on the street, whenever anyone fought on the street, it was quick, brutal, but over in a matter of seconds. Whenever they fought in the Arena, it was like they all thought, _Oh, all these people are watching, better prance around like a dancing monkey and give them a good show._ I had won most of my fights today by attacking immediately and pressing my advantage, overwhelming my opponent before they could even defend themself.

Somehow I didn’t think that would work with Serena. She was obviously stronger than me. I could feel that in my jarred muscles even after her block. But I expected that. Fae become stronger with age, at the cost of losing speed as they get taller. Any doctor worth his papers could tell you that. But Serena seemed to have missed that memo. She was easily a full 15 centimeters taller than me, but she moved like a Fae half her size. 

So my earlier plan, to duck in and out quickly taking cuts each time, couldn’t be that straightforward. Instead I would have to be smarter than her. A swordswoman four years older than me,who has killed a lot more people. 

At least losing to her would be better than losing to Uma. Sometimes I wondered if the younger sister got off on tormenting her victims. Serena might enjoy killing people, but it was the actual killing, not the gloating or tormenting. So as we circled each other I was spared having to engage in snarky banter. Not that I didn’t enjoy some snarky banter, I just preferred it when I wasn't about to die.

The seconds stretched on, and still we circled. I was looking for an opening, some mistake in her guard that I could use. As we turned, I noticed that every revolution, Serena would look at something over my head. At first, I didn’t risk checking it, afraid it was a ploy of hers to distract me. But everytime she did it, it was at the same point in the circle. Finally, after the fourth time I saw her look, I decided I had to know. When we were half a turn away from where she checked, I did the same. 

For a second, my eyes locked on my mother’s, peering out from her pale white face, hovering just above the torch light. In the half second I could spare, it looked like she nodded towards me. Or was that an illusion? Whichever, I immediately regretted it. Looking at the light temporarily blinded me. As I blinked to refocus my eyes, I felt more than saw Serena lunge towards me. I swung my sword up to block, but I knew the angle was all wrong. Her blade sliced past mine unimpeded and bit into my arm. The only good my swing did was turn a potentially deadly cut to the shoulder into a slice of skin off my forearm. 

Pain shot up my arm and my vision swam red. My other hand shot instinctively to my arm and I felt the warm sticky slickness of my own blood. I let out an involuntary hiss at the sting and my eyes swam with unshed tears. I tried to blink them away as fast as I could, knowing she was about to press her advantage. _She’s going to attack. You have to block this time. You have to…_ But no, she wasn’t. Somehow, miraculously, we were back to circling.

We were so close now, no more than a meter apart. I could hear the drip of my blood off her sword over the crunch of our boots in the sand. _Why isn’t she attacking? She could have already killed me._ But for some stupid reason she was still looking up at my mother. It was almost like she was waiting for something.

_Holy fuck!_ All of a sudden I realized what was happening. Serena was Mom’s lieutenant. She couldn’t just kill me when she felt like it. No matter how much she wanted to. She had to wait for permission, and for whatever reason, Mom didn’t want her to kill me yet. Well fuck waiting.

As we circled, I crouched, tensing in preparation.

The next time she glanced up, I launched forward with the full force of my legs. For a moment I saw her shocked expression, and then I was on top of her. Without even realizing it, I drove my sword through her stomach. It felt strange, nothing like stabbing the practice dummies. There was brief moment of tension, then a sudden pop and momentum carried my sword forward through her stomach and out under her left arm. 

The force carried us both to the ground. As soon as I recovered from the impact, I scrambled to my feet. Trying not to think about what I just did, I was ready for my mother to declare victory so this would be over. But Serena wasn’t dead! She was moaning, clearly in pain, and waving her rapier around wildly. Her off hand clutched at the hilt of my sword and she looked like she was trying to pull it out, but couldn’t get a good grip. 

_Why isn’t she dead? Shouldn’t she be dead? Didn’t people die when you stab them? Why isn’t she dying?_

Instead, she was struggling to rise, groggy but clearly ready to keep fighting. With a shriek I grabbed my gladius, pushing her back with my foot to pull it out. I thrust my sword down through her chest. She let out a horrifying scream that trailed off into a bloody gurgle. But somehow she was still trying to get up, clawing at the sand, desperately trying to stand.

I flew into a frenzy, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing. _Die bitch. Fucking die._ “Why won’t you die? Fucking die already!” I suddenly realized that I was shouting, and when I stopped, the arena was dead silent. And then... 

I felt a hand, burning into my skin icy cold as if my clothes offered no protection. It was a right hand, I could feel the icy burn of each individual finger and thumb, right on my spine. My breath caught, frozen in my chest. Then a second hand, on my chest, right over my heart. I felt my blood stop. I heard silence where I should have heard a heartbeat. 

Then the voice. Creaking tree branches, wind through tombstones, crackling bones, cracking ice, nails on chalkboard, the last gasp of dying man, the gurgle of blood in slit throat, the final moan of agony. The plea of mercy from a fallen enemy.

The sound of it tore through my mind, ripping apart any sense of self. I was nothing. I was dead. I was a vessel for the knowledge of the voice. I was a doll in the hands of sadistic child. 

The voice spoke four words. Each word ripping my head apart, too big, too important for my simple mortal shell. “Promise made. Promise kept.” 

Then the hands were gone, I felt warmth flooding my body. And fainted from the shock. 

 

“M? M? Guys I think she’s waking up.”

My body felt weird, lighter, like I’d lost thirty kilos but was still as strong as before. In contrast, my head was heavy. The phrase the voice had spoken felt like it needed a lot more space in my memory than four words should have. _Promise made, promise kept._ At the thought, the room seemed colder, and I shivered subconsciously.

I tried to open my eyes, but there was some kind of junk on them. As I brought my hand up to wipe it away, a familiar voice said, “I wouldn’t do that.” A hand grabbed my wrist. Reflexively, still not fully awake, I reached up and grabbed them by the throat, twisting us to the ground with them pinned beneath me. The movement dislodged enough of the stuff in my eyes that I could see it was Jay. His startled expression explained why he hadn’t tried to push me off yet. I was going to let him go, but stopped when I saw my hands.

They were completely covered in some crusty maroon colored gunk. I rubbed my eyes and found the same stuff flaking off my face. I realized what it was and ran to my mirror. 

My face, jacket, everything was covered in Serena’s dried blood. My earlier rubbing had cleared a small patch around my eyes. The contrast between green eyes, pale skin and the bruise colored mess of the rest of my face appeased my aesthetic sense. I looked horrifying. My grin stretched and cracked the blood, turning me into a monster.

I spun back around to face the others, and laughed when they all jumped. I was used to them being a little afraid of me, but this effortless terror… I could get used to this. Carlos’ reaction was especially funny. His face went green and he had to noticeably restrain himself from vomiting. 

Evie was the first to speak, her usual seductive grace dampened by the quiver in her voice. “Bertha dear, your, ah, well, your mother wanted to speak with you when you awoke. Why don’t we get you cleaned up and…” she cut off immediately when I held up a hand. She actually swallowed, reflexively I thought, in fear.

“No way am I wasting this opportunity. If I get rid of this,” here I gestured at the mess that was my clothing. “I’m just Bertha, daughter of no one again. This way, Mom will have to recognize me.” Chuckling to myself, I added, “It might even freak out those old bats in her Circle too.” 

Jay and Evie shared a look, and Carlos refused to make eye contact with anyone, especially me. I thought I heard him muttering something under his breath, but none of the words were familiar. Jay, who was usually so charismatic you could bottle his sweat as an aphrodisiac, stuttered his reply. “Come on, let’s, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I glanced back and forth between them, my incredulous expression sending more of the blood flaking off. “What the hell is wrong with you two? I guess I can understand you E. Blood of your enemies isn’t on your list of Top Ten Makeup Tips to Bring out the Princess in You. But Jay, you’re normally right there in the mud and shit with me.” 

He muttered something that sounded like, “Blood is different.” 

“No it isn’t,” I retorted, moving towards the door. “You’re so proud when you punch someone hard enough to get their blood on your hands. This is just more.” 

Evie put her hand on my shoulder, but almost immediately withdrew it, rubbing the junk off her manicured nails. “M, you killed someone.”

“And she killed my sister. You don’t see me freaking out about that.” I glared at Carlos, daring him to comment. Instead he made a noise, ironically, like a kicked puppy. Satisfied that they were done, I ripped the door open. Actually I ripped the knob straight out of the door, and had to awkwardly fumble with the latch to get it to open. 

 

When my mother and her followers had first been imprisoned on the Isle, she had immediately claimed the rundown castle as her base of operations. It wasn’t particularly fancy, as anything valuable had either been looted or rotted away years before we got here. And it wasn’t particularly imposing, with half of the structure mostly rubble and the other half cracked and crumbling. But it was the tallest building around, so wherever you went on the island, you could always look up and think, _That’s where Maleficent lives_. Or at least that was the idea. 

The hallway with my sisters’ and my rooms was close to the back corner, where the outer wall seamlessly turned into a ten foot tall pile of rubble that might have once been a tower. Our corridor was high enough to be on the third story, although the only thing below us was a big empty space that might have been a stable. And there was a big elder tree growing next to my window which gave me a quick exit. 

I barely glanced at my old tags on the wall as jumped over the rubble and collapses. Now that my life wasn’t in any extra danger, my fingers twitched to paint again. In my head, I could already see the outline of two figures, one with a sword held over the other. But Mom came first; I would have to wait to indulge my hobby until after I found out what she wanted. I navigated the various jumps and climbs with practiced ease eager to get it over with. Behind me I could hear the grumbling and of the others as they followed, slower because they didn’t come up here as often.

There wasn’t a staircase to get down to the main level. Instead, there was an organised pile of broken stones that had been piled up by me and my sister. My sister. She had never been given a proper name. I had called her “M,” the first letter of our mother’s name, which was incidentally why Evie used the same as a nickname. Mom had only ever called her “child” or “girl,” and for the last four years “mistake.” I only had the name “Bertha” to differentiate me from her.

In a way, I had thought of her every day since she died, and yet hadn’t thought of her at all. Everything I did, every hour of training, every practice session, every sword technique, had been to make it through the tournament, to succeed where she failed. But I hadn’t really thought of her as my sister in all that time. 

I knelt down and pick up one of the stones from the pile at random. Turning it over in my hands, I a saw the painting on the back. A red circle, with two grayish blobs moving around it. Mars, the god of war, and his sons Panic and Dread. Mother, the warrior queen, and the misshapen rocks surrounding her. 

The paint on the rock had faded; I could only make out what it was because I had made it. I glanced back towards the paintings on the wall. All of them were washed out, barely recognizable. The yellows and reds were faded away, and my preferred greens and purples were smeared over them. I realized it had been four years since I had just painted for fun. I tagged around the city still, but that was just defacing the King’s propaganda and putting messages from my mother in their place. 

I hadn’t had time to paint for fun. Any hour that wasn’t spent training or going on missions for Mother had been spent with Jay and others stealing enough food to not starve. 

There was moisture in the corner of my eyes. I heard the crunch of boots on stone behind me, and knew the others had finally caught up. Keeping my head down so they couldn’t see my moment of weakness, I started climbing down the slope. It was time to see what Mother wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was intended to go up a month ago, but I am a terrible human being who is incapable of keeping to a deadline, and also school is a thing.
> 
> I hope you guys don't hate this version of Mal. 
> 
> Next time (whenever that may be) we get to see Golden Boy Benny-Boo again.


	4. Family Business, Part 1

**Ben's POV**

Ben had a sense of foreboding as the car pulled up to Castle _Joyau d’Auradon_ , the Jewel of Auradon. It wasn’t the architecture that unnerved him. The building and grounds were designed to be as inviting as possible. There were towers of gleaming white marble, but most of these towers were squat, with the exception of the high tower in the middle. The windows were wide and inviting, the opposite of normal castle windows, with expansive balconies for guests to relax. Each rounded archway marking an entrance was well lit, to dispel the notion that secret business and illicit meetings were conducted within. 

It wasn't the landscaping either. The wide, open trees called to him in invitation. Not that there were any Dryads in there. His father had the groundskeeper cut any trees which threatened to grow tall enough to make one. But something primal pulled him in, begging him to run, to hunt. His new ring burned on his finger, and he was forced to pull his gaze away. 

It was his parents. His mother who was hell bent on eradicating any memory of her former “provincial life,” including any that might have carried over in her son. And his father who would want to make up for the week's lost time and continue turning Ben into a perfect kingly clone of himself. 

Did he love his parents? Of course. The idea of hating his family, his blood, made the ring burn as well. But they could stand to tone down their … help. 

The car pulled up to the main entrance, circling the small fountain in front. Small by Auradon royal standards, and therefore still large enough to swim in. There wasn’t anyone in the entryway to greet him accept Cogsworth. Ben idly wondered if maybe the man’s stint as a timepiece had given him an intuitive sense of when he needed to be somewhere. Despite the fact that, having missed practice, Ben was an hour early, Cogsworth was checking his watch impatiently. 

As Ben stepped out the car, the majordomo bowed low, which Ben accepted with a nod of his head. “Your Highness. We were not expecting you quite this early. His and Her Majesty's are in library, if you care to say hello. If not, your room is, of course, ready for you whenever you care to retire.” 

“Thank you Cogsworth. I think I will go and see them.” Ben looked back to check if his driver was getting his bags, then turned back to Cogsworth. The man appeared to be fumbling with his watch, which Ben just now noticed was a much sleeker, modern looking device than what the servant usually wore. It emitted a faint beeping sound, and then the large oaken double doors began to swing open. “Automated?” he asked.

“Indeed sir.” The British man puffed up a little with pride. “Just installed this week. It’s important that Their Majesty’s always appear to be ahead of the times.”

“Very impressive. And thank you for getting the door. I know that must be more and more difficult as you’re getting older.”

Cogsworth’s absurdly long mustache tweaked downward in the closest approximation the man had for annoyance. “I can assure His Highness that I am quite young enough to open doors.”

“Of course you are.” Ben walked into the castle.

 

Despite having been built to serve as Auradon’s capital, _Joyau d’Auradon_ was very similar in layout to his father’s former castle, which had itself been converted into Auradon Prep. It was slightly disconcerting to walk through two physically similar but emotionally opposing buildings. It did, however, mean he was almost never lost, despite the size and complexity of the floor plan. He knew exactly which path would take him straight to the library if he wished. But he wasn’t ready to rip the bandaid off his welcome yet. Instead he stuck to the windy servant’s corridors. This had the added benefit of bringing him into contact with much of the staff, allowing him to waste more time asking about their kids, commenting on new jewelry, praising the cooking, etc.

Finally, when he had delayed enough that it was almost the time he would normally arrive, Ben took an exit to the hall in front of the library. This castle’s library was even larger and more grandiose than the school’s. It was well known that Queen Belle was an avid bibliophile, and it was almost expected any meeting with her began with the gift of a new book. So despite the literal thousands of square meters in shelving space, the floor of the library was littered with stacks of books in need of categorization and storage. 

This had, what Ben suspected, the intentional side effect of making the library something of a maze to navigate. Ben had been crawling around the stacks and shelves since he was out of royal diapers, but someone had been moving books around. His prefered route through the ancient history section was now blocked off by hundreds of volumes of Greek mythology. _Weren’t those in poetry last week_? He thought. Shrugging it off, he backtracked and cut through one of the many shelves of fairy tales to the center where he knew his parents would be.

In the sea of haphazard books, his parents’ desks were an island of, well, a different kind of chaos. While they both had official studies in the administrative wing of the castle, the king and queen prefered the quiet comfort of working side by side in the library. The rich oaken furniture was on the small side for royal work, but the desks were placed back to back so the jumbled mess of papers could be pushed back and forth between the two as needed. 

It was mesmerizing to watch his parents work. Ben remembered when he was little, he had sat for hours staring at their incredible coordination. His father knew the policies and laws better than anyone, and as King was the final arbiter on which new laws were signed into effect, and which old laws needed to be amended. His mother was the wordsmith, her love of books giving her unmatched written eloquence. As such, she was responsible for writing the speeches, the thank-you letters, replies to petitioners, and the like. 

But Belle needed to know the nuances of the particular political climate, and Adam needed to ensure the writing of the law matched the intent. So, letters and laws were passed back and forth, scribbled with margin notes and editorial comments. They never talked while they were working, the room was silent but for the hypnotic, and harmonic, scratch of pens on paper, but they could clearly communicate priority and importance without a single spoken word.

Ben once thought to suggest they use computers and a more modern system of document crafting, but he had promptly admonished himself for wanting to destroy something so beautiful. 

His approach was from behind his mother; when his father glanced up at the movement, Ben bowed in greeting, then put a finger to his lips. He snuck up behind her, his lack of sneaking skills compensated by her engrossment in her letter. Not wanting to ruin her work, Ben waited until she was no longer writing to wrap her in a hug. 

His mother jumped a little at the unexpected contact, but once she realized it was him, she turned in his chair and returned the hug. “Benjamin! You’re back early.” He gestured over her shoulder towards the clock on her desk, which had just turned to ten past six. Without missing a beat, his mother said, “Benjamin, you’re back late.” 

“Yes. Your delinquent son, returned home ten minutes late. I was thinking about going out with my gang, paint all the limos bright pink, maybe hold hands with a girl other than Audrey.” He let what he knew to be a dorky grin cross his face.

“Then it is a good thing we don’t throw people onto _Calignis_ for first time, minor offenses, son,” his father snarked back. “But if you do it a second time.” He shook his finger in jest. 

_And what about turning into a monster Father? What’s the punishment for a first time offense there?_ Ben bit back his comment and did his best to give a natural smile. 

“Before you go out and disappoint us, there are some things I want to show you.” His father gestured towards the papers on his side of the desk. “I want your opinion on how to resolve a trade disagreement.”

Ben had been expecting this. Another one of his father’s tests, to see how capable he was of running the country. But the prince was still feeling somewhat shaken from his earlier experiences, and did not trust himself to be able to discern what answers his father would want. He decided that now would be the time tell them he was quitting the team. Even with Helmine’s magic ring, there was still too much of a risk of it getting broken or lost on the field. He wanted to avoid that threat of … changing skin, as Helimine had put it, in front of his classmates if at all possible. And distracting them with that news would give him more time to recover.

“Speaking of responsibilities father, there’s something I need to tell you.” Ben took a short breath, which he knew his parents could see, but was small enough to pretend they wouldn’t. “I’ve decided to resign my position on the Tourney team.”

The ghost of a smile disappeared from his father’s face, to be replaced with the furrowed brow, stern frown, and piercing glare of the High King. “Why?”

Even knowing it was coming, the question was still a punch to the gut. Ben had already scripted his response; he had to convey his desire to accept more responsibility, without suggesting he was incapable of meeting it. “I have decided that it is unfair to my teammates, and my country, to continue to divide my time between my hobby and my station. As their captain, and their prince, it is my job to set an example of leadership, and I feel they would be best served to be informed of my priority of commitments now, than to be forced to discover it when I inevitably choose the duties of my birth over the duties of my sports.” Through it all, Ben forced himself to keep eye contact as much as possible. It would have been painful even if he was telling the full truth. Under current circumstances it was almost excruciating. 

There was a long pause, during which Ben hardly dared to breath. Finally, his father asked, “Have you told your team?”

“No. I wanted to inform you first.”

“Good. Then we will discuss this over dinner.” High King Adam rose and stormed out of the room.

The moment his father was out of sight, his mother stood and placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. In her gentle voice she said,”You know your father doesn’t mean anything by that. He worries about you.”

“I know mother. I know he cares, but sometimes he has an odd way of showing it.”  
She actually laughed. “Yes. We’ve been fighting his temper as long as I have known him.” “We’ve.” As though his father’s temper was a separate entity which they had to fight together. She had to turn her head up to look him in the eye. “What’s really going on Ben? You can tell me.”

He wished he could, but his parents were almost one person. Anything he told one of them, the other would know within minutes. So he had planned his response to her as well, knowing his exact words would be reported to his father. “I am afraid. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint father, and afraid I’ll disappoint my team. I only have three months left, and I know he’s expecting me to do more to prepare. I can’t let him down, but I don’t want to be torn between him and my friends.” Everything he said was true of course, even if it wasn’t the primary reason. 

His mother pulled him in another hug. “I’m sorry dear. I know the feeling. I don’t think your father understands as well, because, well…” She trailed off, but Ben knew what she was talking about. The miseries of his father’s childhood were established history. “But I remember what it was like when I became his queen. It was quite a shock.” She bit her lower lip, an exaggerated display of thought. “I will talk to your father, and see if he can compromise. I think it is good for you to stay on the team because it is good for you to be tested, but perhaps they should make an allowance when you have other duties.” Then she was off after her husband. Ben was left alone with the books.

Once he was sure she was gone, Ben began looking over the papers spread across his parents’ desk. He had no doubt that once his father had calmed down, he would begin quizzing Ben on current events and solutions to the trade argument. And as the man himself had told him, forewarned is forearmed. 

There weren't any surprises to be found. Requests for trade renewals, disputes over internal borders, petitions by a guild to monopolize a particular market, petitions by a rival guild to deny monopoly… The usual problems passed on up to the king so lower ranking officials wouldn't feel the ire of those harmed by the final decision. Almost all of the papers he could see pertained to France alone, not Auradon as a whole. That was the beauty of the Council. Each king or queen handled their internal problems within the guidelines of the overarching Council laws. The only documents of international significance which he might find on his father’s desk were disputes on foreign trade or ….

Wait. Tucked away so only a portion of the top line was visible was a document that started: Petition to Allow Fairy … The rest of the title, and indeed the contents of the document, were hidden by the rest of the papers. _Allow Fairy what?_ Ben thought. He had reached out his hand to pull the document from the rest, when he caught himself. Technically he was not supposed to read them without his father’s permission, and he did not trust himself to be able to put everything back well enough that the man couldn’t notice. 

Still, he was curious. Despite interacting with two of the Fey, the Headmistress and Jane, almost daily, Ben knew very little about the race. He wasn’t close friends with Jane, and other than classes and being assaulted with silver, he didn’t speak with the Headmistress often. If there were books on them in either the school or castle libraries, he had yet to find them. 

He stared at the page, and felt like it was taunting him. Allow Fairy public use of magic? Allow Fairy immigration from Neverland to be unrestricted? Allow Fairy public officers in Fey districts? Allow Fairy’s to cartwheel naked through the streets on alternate Saturdays? Any of them could be the answer (except possibly the last one). Finally Ben was forced to tear his eyes away. If he stayed here any longer, the temptation would become too strong. He had to get ready for dinner, and for whatever his father’s compromise would be.

 

While Queen Belle typically followed her husband’s lead when it came to public matters, in the privacy of their own castle she was the undisputed ruler of the roost. And when there were no guests to entertain or dignitaries to impress, she insisted that mealtimes take on a more intimate, “family dinner” style. Of course her departure from her provincial roots insisted that the meals be multicourse, prepared by the usual kitchen staff, and served with the proper decorum. “Family dinner” to her simply meant a smaller table in a smaller dining room, and the participants did not have to be as formally dressed. Ben and his father had both traded suits and slacks for polo shirts and khakis, while Belle had exchanged her formal gown for a sundress. The quality of service was still kilometers above what the general Auradon population was used to, but at least it didn’t make Ben sick with ostentatious display. 

The family dinning room was small, roughly four meters on each side, and decorated with only the minimal required quantity of marble busts and familial paintings. There were three doors, one ornate oak entrance on the west wall for the the family, and two servant’s doors designed to blend seamlessly into the east wall. The room was illuminated by gold gilded chandelier, made to look like it carried candles, but actually using electricity. It was even set to have the lights flicker gently at random intervals to enhance the effect. The walls were painted a deep blue, and all of the fixtures and switches were a golden yellow. The table, more than a square meter of varnished wood, was covered in a similarly colored tablecloth, and set with fake candelabra and appetizers of bread. 

Ben had timed his arrival perfectly, and only had to stand by his chair for a minute before his parents arrived. He exchanged stiff nods with his father, and a warmer smile with his mother, before the three of them took their seats. 

Dinner was cold in the beginning. Not the food; the bread was still fresh from the oven. It was the atmosphere of the room that was chilly. Neither Ben nor his mother moved to make conversation during the first two courses. They deferred to the king to know when the time was right to address the tap dancing elephant in the room. They were well into the main course (Confit de canard), before Adam spoke.

The king wiped his mouth and fixed Ben with a stern gaze. "So you plan on quitting the team." It was not a question, and it was stated as casually as one might declare they were planning an execution. 

Ben cleared his throat, and returned his fork, halfway to his mouth, to the plate. "Yes father."

"And what were your reasons again?" This time it was a question, although it was obviously one his father already knew the answer to. This was a test of consistency, checking for lies by ensuring the story was the same with each telling. Fortunately the story Ben picked was at least partially true, making it easier to remember the details.

“As your son, my first and most important responsibility is to the country, its people, and its king. In the past, this interest was best served at school, where I not only gained extensive knowledge of our history and customs, but also the respect and loyalty of my peers on the tourney field. Now, we are three months away from me joining you as co-king of France. I think the best use of my time would be studying the finer details of the kingdom, and the ins and outs of running it. In that endeavor, tourney practice would only serve as a distraction.” The entire time, Ben forced himself make casual eye contact with each of his parents. He did his best to keep his movements casual and conversational, as though he were just a son explaining himself to his father, and not a monster hiding from his king. 

“And do you,” Adam replied, his expression not softening in the slightest, “think that you will retain the respect and loyalty of your peers when you quit your obligations to them in the middle of the season?”

“I won’t tell them that I am quitting the team,” Ben said with perfect, outward calm. “I will present it to them as an opportunity to step up and prove how much they have learned from me.”

“So you will lie to them about you motivations. Is dishonesty a trait you value in your leaders?” Adam’s eyes bored into Ben.

Every curse he knew flashed through Ben’s mind in an instant. The ring burned like a sun on his finger. It was lucky he had already rested that hand in his lap, because he reflexively clenched his fist in pain. He wanted to take a deep breath, spend a moment to calm himself, but he knew it would just cemement his guilt in his father’s mind. Instead he had to push onwards, and pray to whichever god governed speaking that he said the right things.

“It is not a lie. It is the truth. Or, at least the portion on the truth they need to hear. As a leader, I want all of the information so I can make the best decision. But I know when instructing your followers, one must often filter out the information they do not need, to prevent them from taking the wrong actions. I know you do not tell me everything, father, and I do not begrudge you for it, because I know you do it out of love and a desire to see me grow.” He said all of this faster than he wanted. Ben told himself it was to get all the truth out before his father could question it, but in reality he thought the more words he said the more likely it was he would convince them. 

The queen frowned at the notion of intentionally withholding information, but his father nodded and his frown lessened somewhat. “Then it would appear you have learned something. Perhaps it is not my favorite lesson, and I think you miss some of the nuance, but you are nevertheless correct.” Finally his expression broke into a smile. “Maybe we’ll make a king out of you yet son.”

Ben allowed himself a very gentle sigh of relief; he was about to thank his father for the compliment, when his mother spoke up. “Be that as it may, are you certain in this particular instance, this particular creative truth is the correct one? Are you so certain that you have to leave the team that you can justify it?”

Adam looked at his wife and Ben thought he saw a hint of a smile on his father’s face. “A good point dear.” He turned back to Ben. “Are you suggesting that your duties here are already too much for you to divide your time?”

The string of swears returned, this time with friends. “Of course not father. This is a preemptive measure. ‘Pulling off the bandaid,’ as the phrase goes.” 

“So you do anticipate it?” His father pressed.

Ben made a very dramatic show of sighing heavily. “Shouldn’t a wise king prepare for the worst in case it comes? I do not know the full extent of my abilities, nor do I know the full extent of the responsibilities I may be called upon to fulfill. Is it not better to prepare now for the day, whether or not it may come, when I must choose between my team and my country?”

“A man that prepares for war, often finds that he precedes it.” Ben started to reply, but his father held up a hand for silence. “This sets a precedent Benjamin. Is this how you would rule? Flitting from one responsibility to another, neglecting those you wish not to have?”

There was a pause, which Ben took as an opening to respond. “In the future, none of my responsibilities are likely to involve my hurling myself at my peers and chasing balls for three hours a day.”

“No, but it may involve meetings, or giving speeches, for quite a bit more than three hours a day. What will you do when your public appearances clash with your private responsibilities?”

“We will be co-kings, father,” Ben reminded. “Gods willing we will rule together for a long count of years. And when it is your time to cross the river, I will have a wife, to work alongside me as you and mother do for each other.”

Belle spoke this time, disrupting the glares the men were giving each other. “So you would make your wife take on the responsibilities you find distatefull?”

The realization of their true concerns almost made Ben laugh. “Mother, I’m not walking away from something I hate. I’m giving up something I love.”

The tension, which had been almost palpable, dissipated almost immediately. His father actually laughed, a loud bark of a laugh which set the rest of them off. By the time the eclairs were brought in they were all chatting amiably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned. Chapter five should be coming tomorrow.


	5. Family Business, Part 2

**Mal's POV**

The central courtyard of the castle was overgrown with trees. I think most kings would have been disgusted to have a jungle in the middle of their house. But Mother was a traditionalist. Once the bushes were trimmed and the mushrooms transplanted, the courtyard had been transformed into a proper Fae Court. 

Since it was still dark outside (or darker than it usually was on the island), I assumed it must have been later the same night. In spite of that, the entire circle was gathered in the clearing beneath the trees. Even if it had been daytime, the only light under the interlocking branches would be the torches placed around the ring. I was starting to regret not changing clothes because it was too dark for anyone to see the the blood, and the crusty junk was starting to get uncomfortable.

I had only been at meetings with the full circle present twice, and only once where I had to say anything. The feeling of stepping into the ring was disturbingly similar to being in the arena, which was actually comforting. I’d won my last fight, so whatever happened here couldn’t be any worse.

The circle was made of 12 fairy rings spaced evenly around the edge of the clearing. Mother stood in the northern ring, with her three immediate subordinates, Cruella de Vil, Jafar, and Grimhilde, at the other cardinal points. The other eight were the lieutenants to each of the main four. Cruella had Lady Tremaine, and had her two henchmen, Horace and Jasper, alternate in the second spot. Jafar was flanked by the swashbuckling terror of the seas, Captain Hook, and the warlord Shan-Yu, who Mother had resurrected to terrorize General Mulan. Grimhilde, the so called “Evil Queen”, had chosen Yzma, an alchemist who had fled the tyranny of a New World empire to imprisoned under the tyranny of Auradon, and a witch who refused to give her real name but had been banished from DunBroch after turning the queen into a bear. Mother was flanked by Rumplestiltskin and, until today, Serena. 

I passed Shan-Yu and Yzma as I moved into the center of the circle. The warchief gave a sleazy, predatory look while the alchemist appeared disgusted by my presence. Or probably my clothing. Jay, Evie, and Carlos lingered behind their parents and kept out of sight.  
“You sure took your time getting here, girl,” Jafar sneered before I finished moving.

“Don’t fault her for wanting to savor the moment darling,” said Cruella. “A girl’s first time, her first kill, is special.” She said this with such gleeful malice, for a moment I understood Carlos’s fear.

“Please,” came a voice from behind me, and I found myself spinning to face Grimhilde. “The girl should have taken longer. Didn’t even have the decency to clean herself up.”

I had a retort to this on my tongue, but it was drowned out in the explosion of bickering that followed. After a moment I gave up trying to follow it, and focused on Mother instead, who was standing perfectly quiet. She was not looking at me, instead letting her gaze pass calmly from one follower to the next. She let them squabble for a moment, then pulled herself up straighter by her staff. 

“Silence,” she declared. It almost a whisper, but her cold voice cut through the noise, which died immediately. She continued, her voice slow and powerful, “I’ve called a meeting of the full Circle this evening, but I find myself one lieutenant short.” She frowned a moment, and I felt irrationally embarrassed. “By right of combat this position belongs to the girl standing before you. Are there any objections?”  
I was stunned. At best I hoped I would get a little recognition, maybe a promotion in the army. I didn’t realize I would get to join the Circle. As I was processing this, Jafar spoke again.

“I have one,” he drawled. “Why should we not also promote our own sons and daughters to the circle?”

I had to step aside to avoid the fierce glare Mother fixed the djinni with. “For two reasons. One, they have not achieved any feats significant enough to receive such an honor, and would not obtain unanimous support. Two, I have not previously, and do not now acknowledge this girl as my daughter, so your nepotism would be unprecedented.” 

There was an odd, cold feeling in my chest. It was kind of like biting into a crisp, clean looking apple and finding out halfway through it’s actually rotten. There was a voice in my head, like the Voice but subtler and more malicious, whispering, _Not even now_. 

_What do I have to do Mom? Is killing someone not enough for you? _A vague, wild idea popped into my head. Maybe if I killed everyone, it would be enough. Just one word of praise would be worth a hundred rings on the Circle. Before the thought could even fully form, there was another voice in my head, sounding a lot like Evie of all things, talking me out of it. _That’s really dumb. Mom would probably be more mad than proud if I killed them. What if she’s just playing politics? Saying something to keep the others calm but inwardly she’s really proud of me. _With that thought to buoy me up, I refocussed on the discussion around me.____

____“If there are no other objections,” Mother was saying, with a tone suggesting objections would be met with beheadings. “I declare Bertha to be my third ring on the Circle. I also dub her ‘Mal,’ because while she is not yet my equal, she is no longer no one.”_ _ _ _

____My face kept the carefully unimpressed expression I had learned from my mother, but inside I was practically jumping up and down. Sure she hadn’t called me her daughter, but it was the next best thing. If she thought I was good enough to warrant even a piece of her name, she must believe in me more than I thought. I had to focus on walking calmly and dignified as I made my way towards the ring of mushrooms on Mother’s right. Even the condescending, patronizing smile of Lady Tremaine next to me couldn’t shake my mood._ _ _ _

____Half to me and half to the rest of the Circle, Mother announced, “Since you are replacing Serena, you will assume control over her territory. You control the easter half of the wharf, spanning from the bridge to Ursula’s shop, as well as the lesser isle of the coast. That is our final order of business, and so concludes this Circle meeting.”_ _ _ _

____With her pronouncement, the various leaders of the island dispersed. Killian Jones, more famous for his missing hand than any one act of piracy, intercepted me as I tried to join my friends. “Well love, it looks like we’ll be working together.” He put out his hook, looked down at it and laughed, then offered me his hand. I glanced at my mother, but she was discussing something with Grimhilde and very pointedly not looking at me. Giving me a chance to handle this on my own, I guessed._ _ _ _

____I put on Mom’s best stern, disinterested expression and crossed my arms. “Why? You have your half of the docks and I have mine.”_ _ _ _

____“Aye lass, but it’s all one coast.” His charming grin was filled with crooked and chipped teeth. “What I do affects your half, and what you do affects mine. You’ll be wanting my help to look after things and make sure it’s all running smoothly.”_ _ _ _

____“Did you help Serena?”_ _ _ _

____He threw his hook-ended arm around my shoulder, which was protective and threatening at the same time. “That girl was a mean bitch. She ran the place by snarling at anyone who looked at her, and cutting to ribbons anyone what looked twice. And you can’t run a crew like that. You start running out of sea to dump the bodies.”_ _ _ _

____I pushed his arm off me as casually as I could and faced him. “Why don’t you let me run my turf my way, and if I need your help I ask for it.”_ _ _ _

____His grin never wavered. “Suit yourself love. But I’m only offering once. If you wait till you have to come to, it’s going to cost you a lot more.” Then he swaggered off towards the wharf._ _ _ _

____At that moment, Mother finished her own conversation, and called me over to her. I waved Evie and the other off, mouthing “Later” to them and moved closer to Mother. With a start I realized she was still standing in the middle of her own fairy ring, leaning casually against her staff. It looked like she hadn’t moved since ending the meeting. I started to ask her what she wanted, but she silenced me with one outstretched finger. She gestured around the clearing, and didn’t lower it until everyone else was gone._ _ _ _

____Once they had vanished into the trees, she hooked her left arm in my right. “Walk with me Mal,” she said softly, and pulled me forward into the gloom._ _ _ _

____We walked until our eyes were used to the darkness. My mind was racing with a hundred questions, but something about my mother’s posture told me I shouldn’t voice them yet. For the moment I was content, because I hadn’t been this close to mother in a long time._ _ _ _

____She lead the way until we reached a fallen branch, half covered in mosses and mushrooms. After finding a mostly clear spot, she directed me to sit, and seated herself next to me. All the unasked questions were bubbling over and it took everything I had not to ask them._ _ _ _

____Finally Mother spoke. “Do you believe a wolf is evil?”_ _ _ _

____The question was completely unexpected, and derailed my train of thought. “N-n-n-no. Why?”_ _ _ _

____“But it kills sheep, and people, and eats them.” She continued casually._ _ _ _

____“So?” I blurted without thinking, and immediately felt embarrassed._ _ _ _

____Mother, on the other hand, burst out laughing. It was such surprise that I found myself laughing to. “Perhaps the best answer anyone has ever given me. Very wise daughter, very wise.”_ _ _ _

____I nearly burst with happiness. _“Daughter.” She claimed me! _I barely had time to revel in it before she kept talking.___ _ _ _

______“What does it matter that the wolf kills? It must eat to survive. And who can fault it? Certainly they may wish it not eat them, but they know the wolf means no harm.” She fixed me with her deep green eyes. “To be evil, one must know they can do harm, and wish to do so to another. Evil is no accident.” I shifted a little on the log, unsure of where she was going with this. She paused for a second, brow partially furrowed in thought. “Do you think I am evil?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______My jaw nearly dropped off. I fumbled for an answer, a jumble of incoherent “Um’s” and “Er’s.” Mother mercifully put an end to that._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I mean to you specifically, Mal. There are some who might suggest my parenting has been cruel, almost to the point of being malicious.” Mom apparently wasn’t aware of the irony of her phrasing._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t think you’re evil, Mother,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt._ _ _ _ _ _

______“And why is that?” Her voice was quiet, and I thought she was being vulnerable._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Because I’m sure you have your reasons.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well of course I had my reasons,” she snapped. I jumped a little at the suddenness of it. She paused, and appeared calmer when she continued. “No, you meant you assumed beforehand I had justificiations, and therefore haven’t before thought of me as evil. Very well.” Mother had turned away when she yelled, but looked back at me, her face impassive. “I don’t suppose you had stopped to wonder what those reasons were?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Wonder? Of course I wondered. Everyday I hoped that it would be the day Mother explained herself to me. Why did she try for a daughter every four years, but then almost ignore us after we could walk? Why did she run her Circle with ruthlessness, but let her lieutenants destroy everything in the city at large? And why the hell did she model her Circle after the Council she hated? “Yes, but I didn’t think I was allowed to ask.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I wouldn’t have killed you for asking.” There was too much emphasis on the word “killed” in her reply. “I also wouldn’t have answered. I can’t have people running around with too much information before I know I can trust them.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______That cut deeper than I wanted to admit, but it also explained why she kept my sisters and I at arm’s length. “You trust me now?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes Mal. You’ve proven yourself capable of accomplishing what needs to be done, and of obeying me even when you don’t know the rationale behind my orders. In other circumstances, I would reveal to you a secret I could afford you not keeping as a last test. Alas I have no secrets now I can afford to loose. Instead, I must give you a different test._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Time is running out. Events that have been foretold are coming to pass. If you are one of the children of prophecy, tonight you will have a dream. In this dream, you will meet a man, a boy about your age. If you meet him, you must show him the horrors of this island. Don’t impress upon him how bad things are; let him discover it for himself. If everything goes as planned, he will play his part perfectly. Tomorrow morning, tell me what happens. Now run along and get some sleep. You’re going to have a lot of fun tomorrow.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I was confused by her sudden dismissal, and by her maniacal grin. But I ran off to my room anyway. I thought, with everything that had happened and the fact I had just woken up, it would be awhile before I fell asleep. Instead, I was out almost immediately, still dressed in my blood soaked clothes._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genuinely meant to post this two days ago, but I wasn't happy with it. I don't think I really captured the subtlety of Maleficent balancing her justification for her own actions with also being "Mistress of all Evil." Still not happy with it, but I decided to stop tormenting you with not knowing what's happening to Mal. 
> 
> Speaking of which, no one thinks they are evil. Even if they're the "Mistress of all Evil." Everyone has a way to justify their actions.


	6. The Revelatory Dream

**Ben POV**

Ben was running through the trees. He had never moved this fast before in his life. He out paced passing birds with ease, as though they were hovering in midair. The trees should have been a blur, and they appeared greyed out and less detailed, but he was still able to distinguish each trunk as he passed. 

As he ran he realized he wasn’t running on two feet, but four paws. The huge, furry appendages each ended in a quintet of powerful claws which gripped the ground in front of him and propelled him forwards with loping strides. Ben became more aware of himself, and realized he was covered in thick fur. His eyes couldn’t make out the color, but he assumed it was brown like his hair. There was some unusual weight on his head, enough that his neck muscles noticed, but not be uncomfortable. 

The further Ben ran the more awake he became. The forest was entirely unfamiliar. The trees grew so close together there wasn’t a gap for light to shine though. Consequentially, he didn’t know whether it was night or day. But he was not following his eyes; he was following his nose.

When Ben noticed his heightened sense of smell, it would have brought him to a halt if not for the burning need within him to keep running. More smells than he could identify were funneled through his nose into his mind. Many scents he recognized, over amplified though they were. Pine, elder, and maple, mixed with the rare wild apple were all trees he knew from home. There was a lingering human scent which plainly told him people-not-ally-enemy? And one scent, the one he was following, was almost human. It came with some other sweet flavor he couldn’t distinguish but knew was pulling him forward.

Ben reasoned he must have been running for some time now because he was starting to feel a slight soreness in his muscles. Even if he didn’t have the strange scent to keep him moving, the pure exhilaration of running dissuaded him from stopping. He had never felt so free, so alive. It was as though the core desire of his soul was being satisfied for the first time. Overwhelmed with joy, he threw back his head without missing a step and howled in delight. The sound echoed back at him from the trees, sounding like a whole pack trailing behind. He responded with a deep, contented growl. 

After a time that felt like mere minutes, but could have been days or years, Ben crossed the line between free-flowing nature and discriminating civilization. The trees hadn’t parted and the undergrowth hadn’t thinned, he had simply found himself crashing through a bush onto the end of a broken street. No longer masked by the trees, the smell of human filth sent him momentarily staggering. Once he’d regained his footing he was able to refocus on the one unique smell and continue his pursuit.

Unlike in the forest, Ben found he had to rely more and more on his sight. He could now see it was night, and there was enough light from the moon and stars to navigate the uneven streets. However, the onslaught of unsavory odors was overwhelming, human stench mixed with rotten fruit, moldy bread, rusted metal, and mossy stone. It wasn’t a uniform odor, but it was blanket enough that he couldn’t use differences in smell to find his path. He had to rely on his worsened sight to jump piles of garbage, avoid running into buildings, or determine if a gap was an alleyway or just poor construction. 

As he walked past the dozenth shop with a currently unreadable sign, Ben wondered why he had dreamed of this place. Because by now he was aware enough of himself to know it was a dream. He always had a goal in his dreams, something he was pursuing. Usually he was trying to finish a test while being tickled, or trying to score a goal but his feet were made of concrete. The normal, surreal sort of dreams most people had. This forest, this city, were completely unknown to Ben, but they still seemed to be a fully functional, real place. Normally his subconscious did not make his fantasy dreams so realistic, but there was the creaking of a sign in the breeze or the feeling of cold stones beneath his paws. Why did he need to know, for instance, the hair salon was named, for this sign was large enough for his animal eyes to read, “Curl Up ‘n’ Dye?” 

Ben was in the middle of pondering the details when he turned the corner and found the source of the sweet scent. It was a girl. Now that he was closer, he could detect some more nuance to the smell. It was actually two different smells mixed together. The first, coming from the girl herself, was sweet-tasty-not-food while the other, from something staining her clothes, was sweet-not-tasty-bad-food-stale. He tried to move closer to her, but kicked over some loose stones in the process. The girl, who looked like she had been painting something, spun on him, spray can raised in front of her. Irrationally afraid of being sprayed, Ben tried to raise up his paws in a gesture of peace. Instead of falling on his face, he found himself rising up in the air, and within seconds he was human again. 

**Mal POV**

I dreamed about the island way more often than I wanted to. I guess when it’s the only place you’ve ever been, it’s the only place you can imagine being. 

This time, I was tagging Mainstreet with a pair of dragons. I had painted their outlines so they formed a stylized heart. The one on the left was black, for my mother, and I had started filling in the right one purple, when I heard something behind me. When I turned, I found an enormous hairy beast lumbering towards me. 

The animal was massive, at least a meter tall, not including the head, and it’s entire body was covered in honey-brown fur. It was strangely well kept, not shaggy or mangy anywhere, and lay almost perfectly flat. The thing’s face looked like it was a mixture of a bunch of animals. The nose was a little pointed like a wolf, but with round bear ears on top and short spiraled horns protruding over monkey-ish eyes. 

When it saw me looking at it, it backed up and raised up on it hind legs. Instead of growling or trying to threaten me, it...changed. As it pushed itself back, both pairs of legs lengthened while its body shortened. The ears shifted to the sides of its head while the horns shrunk out of existence. Its nose shortened, and its face looked more and more monkey-ish by the second. No, not monkey-ish. Human. It was turning into a boy. His fur, now hair, receded everywhere except for the top of his head, where it actually lengthened. His back paws morphed into bare feet while the toes of his front paws extended into fingers. Fortunately for both of us, the change didn’t leave him naked, but instead gave him comfy looking khaki pants and a loose navy blue shirt. When the transformation was over, I was left looking at a tall, muscular boy about my own age.

_He’s cute,_ was the first thought that popped into my head. _Pull yourself together girl. You see animals turning into people and you focus on their attractiveness. Guess we know why our subconscious created him._ Mentally shaking myself, I decided to focus on the dream at hand, and let my subconscious generate its pervy thoughts by itself. 

Strangely, he looked a little nervous. His eyes were darting back and forth, taking in the shops, the road, the broken bottles and discarded papers like it was all new to him. I guess that made sense. He didn’t look like anyone I knew on the isle, so maybe I had created a sort of “new kid” for whatever reason. As he was examining the walls, he seemed to notice the tag I hadn’t finished, and his eyes immediately jumped to the spray can in my hand. I shook it and grinned, and that’s when he seemed to realize I was looking at him. 

His eyes made a quick sweep of my body, then gave an adorable, almost Carlos-esque look of terror. I realized I was still wearing my blood covered outfit from before in the dream, and grinned wider. “Who are you?” he asked with a tremble in his voice. “Is that, is that blood?”

I crossed my arms. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? This is my dream after all.”

He frowned, then smiled slightly. He closed his eyes and put his hands in front of him in the universal stop gesture. There was a flicker of concentration in his face, then his right hand pushed through his left! Now it was my turn to be nervous. _What the hell was that?_

Trying to sound nonplussed, I said, “That’s a neat trick.” The boy opened his eyes and smiled briefly at his weirdly entangled hands before pulling them apart.

“I am definitely dreaming then. I think it’s my turn to ask; Who are you, what is this place, and why are you covered in blood?”

**Ben’s POV**

The dream girl was surprisingly attractive. Not beautiful, at least not by the standards of Auradon’s social elite. She had no makeup, no fancy clothing. The parts that weren’t covered by her blood soaked jacket showed bruising, splotchy rashes, and burns. Her hacked short purple hair looked like it had never met a comb before. Overall she had a lean, nearly malnourished, appearance, with a look in her eyes that said she would stab someone for a slice of bread. But. There was a sincerity to her expression. Yes she might stab him, but that intention was plain on her face. She didn’t seem to have any hidden motivations. She wasn’t kissing his ass to curry favors, or unsubtly hinting at her own desirability. She simply was, and there was something appealing about that.

It was not hard to know why he had dreamed up such a girl. His subconscious was not particularly subtle, especially after his last talk with his parents. But just because this girl was a figment of his imagination, didn’t mean he did not want to get to know her. After checking to make sure it was dream, he asked her the most immediately relevant questions. “Who are you, what is this place, and why are you covered in blood?”

She looked slightly taken aback by this. It appeared she was a girl who liked to be in charge, and it clearly didn’t sit well with her to answer another’s questions. Her mouth formed a tight line and her eyes were narrowed, hinting at her annoyance at being questioned. But since it was a dream, she answered him any way.

“I’m … Mal, daughter of Maleficent. We’re on the Isle of the Lost.” Her voice was full of manufactured roughness, as though she needed to be meaner than she really was. This detracted somewhat from her earlier appeal, but it was still a breath of fresh, slightly bloody, air compared to the girl’s back at Auradon Prep. 

A lack of subtlety was the theme of the evening. He knew this wasn’t really Isle, because he had seen official reports on the quality of conditions there. But this fake Isle enhanced the contrast between Mal’s family and his own, so he didn’t think much of it.

“What about the blood?” He asked, a little more hesitant, but feeling as though he needed to know. 

Mal also hesitated to answer, and when she spoke, she looked like the words were being forced out of her. “I killed someone. Mother held a tournament in honor of my birthday, which I was required to compete in.” 

_What in the world! What kind of mother… How could… Even Maleficent…_ His mind couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t think of something like this. He couldn’t. His relationship with his parents might be subpar, but even a monster like him wouldn’t dream of something so horrible. But the alternative would mean… 

He felt like reality was crashing in around him. Mal’s face distorted into a horrifying monstrosity of itself. The walls were oozing blood. The sky was collapsing onto of him. The world was spinning. The wind whistled, no, howled, no, he howled, he was screaming…

Ben was giving a speech to the full Council of Auradon. He was petitioning for the children of the Isle to be released. They were innocent, they shouldn’t be punished for the crimes of their parents. But the Council was not listening. They jeered, taunted, called him weak, a sellout.

A traitor. 

He realized he was naked. No, not naked. He was covered in fur.

The crowd was screaming, throwing rotten fruit at him. But each piece changed in midair into a head. The head of a girl he barely recognized without the bruises and blood. As her skull crashed against him over and over, spreading blood and brains over his fur, she screamed at him, begging him to save them.

And his father was there. Calm, perfectly in control. Staring down at Ben. “Only a monster could love the other monsters. And I won’t have a monster as a son.”

Ben shot out of bed fully awake, panting laboriously, the tone of his alarm clock still screaming in his ears. 

**Mal POV**

As soon as I told the boy why I was covered in blood, he disappeared. The dream faded soon after, and was replaced by a much worse one. 

I was in a black void. I couldn’t even see a floor, even though I felt like I was standing on something. The only other feature was a pale, flickering, blue flame. The space around me felt warm, or at least comfortable, but as I approached the flame the room grew colder. I tried to pull my jacket tighter around me, only to realize I was naked. I settled for crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to shiver too much. 

When I was so close to the fire it was all I could see, and cold was starting to become unbearable, I was forced to stop by the usual compulsion of dreams. I stood there wondering what would happen next when…

Creaking trees, wind in tombs, crackling bones, cracking ice, nail on chalkboard, death’s last gasp, gurgling blood, agonizing moan, dying pleas, the scream of a mother who lost her child, the cry of a man who lost his love, a pained animal howl. 

The Voice was louder and stronger than ever before. The entire empty space around me echoed with its words. It sounded like they whispered, but the Voice pushed me to my knees. Every syllable made the memory of his handprints on my chest and back flash with frigid fire. 

“I am not finished with you yet.”

Then the voice, the cold, and the darkness released me, and I was free to drift awake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made some edits to previous chapters, adding in the same headings I used in this one to identify character POV's. Someone suggested that it would make things easier to follow.  
> As for why Mal's portions are in first person while everyone else's are in third: One is because Mal technically isn't her name until the previous chapter when her mother properly names her, so this way avoids confusion. It also reflects the stories each of the characters is going through. Ben's story is about him finding his place in a world he grew up in but doesn't quite belong to. Mal's story is about her learning who she is, irrespective of who is around her and what they think. I'm sorry if that doesn't seem like good enough justification for you, but ultimately that's what made the most sense to me.


	7. The Confinement Conspiracy

**Ben POV**

The dream that had felt so real to Ben just moments ago was rapidly fading from his mind. There had been a girl, and an island, and then his father was there. But the details slipped through his fingers like water. There was one point that stuck with him though.

Slipping into a fluffy blue bathrobe and cinching it tight, Ben stepped out of his room and into the chill corridor. Fortunately, in the age of gas heating and carpeting, the fact that he forgot slippers wasn’t as much of an issue. With enough natural light streaming in through the windows that he didn’t need aid, he made his way towards the west wing without turning on the authentic looking, electric candles.

Though it was still early in the morning there were already servants moving through the corridors, dusting paintings, changing light bulbs. Ben greeted those he knew by name, and those he didn’t still nodded politely to, but his pace made it clear their prince wasn’t open to chatting.

Even without interruptions, it was still a five-minute walk from one side of the castle to the other. It would have been ten if Ben didn’t know the hidden passages so well by now. Afterwards, it took him another five minutes to find the particular record room he was looking for, as he didn’t often explore this part of the castle without his father. Not because it was forbidden. That was back in the old castle when his father was still cursed. But because this was were they had the offices, meeting rooms, and most importantly, for Ben at least, royal copies of the public records.

At this point Ben was awake enough to wonder if he was being silly. Maybe the island in his dream was just run down and trashy because he was juxtaposing it with his own life. But now that the idea was in his head, he was committed to solving the mystery.

The Isle of _Calignis_ had its own file cabinet, tucked towards the back of the room. In the top drawer there were the yearly census records, which didn’t even take up half the space yet. The bottom drawer was empty and was probably going to be used for spill over from the others. But the middle draw held the quarterly inspections. His Headmistress had to fly out to the island every three months or so to refresh the spells keeping the criminals trapped and unable to use magic. During that time, the barrier was relatively weak, and men were allowed to pass through using charms crafted by Helmine herself. Their job was to make sure that no one had escaped and that conditions remained livable enough to at least be considered humane.

Each report began with a nearly identical heading from Helmine. She listed the runes she carved, the chants she performed, and finished with a statement confirming the strength of the spell. What followed afterwards were description of the Isle and it inhabitants’ current status.

> The prisoners are wary and keep their distances, but do not cause trouble. Most have a bitter, distrustful look in their eyes, but a hand on the hilt of the sword keeps them from approaching too close…
> 
> The homes are remarkably well kept, given the nature of their occupants. The prisoners seem to take great pride in the quality of their work, and the condition of their living spaces. Even the streets are kept clean. Here or there a paving stone is missing, introducing an obstacle to those trading goods from their carts, but the roads are easily navigable…
> 
> There is little sign of poverty or want. The prisoners enjoy both the fruits of their own labor and of Auradon’s, and the materials supplied by the mainland are more than enough for all to live adequately. Indeed, if not for the magic dome encapsulating the town, one might even forget this was a prison at all.

All of the reports were in a similar vein. The population of the Isle was not happy about where it was located, but they had little to complain about in terms of the quality of their lives. It was certainly a far cry from the trash strewn, ramshackle town he had seen in his dream. Ben sighed, content that the case was closed.

Except…

Something still bothered him. There was something wrong with the reports. Some inconsistency.

Ben pulled more files out of the drawer, going back further and further. It wasn’t until he was towards the very back that he finally realized what was bothering him.

It wasn’t a lack of consistency. It was too much consistency. There was never any discussion of significant events, no uprisings or rebellions, no complaint filed by prisoners, no talk of slander against the inspectors. The people were always quietly bitter. The buildings always remarkably well kept. The streets always clean. Not only do most of them use very similar phrasing, but some of them even used the _same_ phrasing! Some of the reports were _exactly identical_.

The end of each report was signed and dated by both the Inspector General of the island and the High King. And on every single report his father has signed and dated the exact same day as the inspector general. Every. Single. One.

His parents were fairly efficient at churning through paperwork, but they often had files sitting on their desks for a week before they got attention. Was Ben to believe that for this one case his father made an exception and always, _always_ , checked the reports the day they came in? For twenty straight years?

There was an obvious explanation. But it was so horrible it took a moment for Ben to even allow it to take root in his mind. Someone was faking the reports and faking his father’s signature on them. It wouldn’t have been difficult. All but the oldest reports were printed, and it was possible the signature was printed on them from the start. And it was only in those first papers that there was notice of more vocal opposition to the inspectors.

His father probably hadn’t even seen these. Someone was forging the king’s signature and passing them on.

A bell rang towards the middle of the castle, signaling to the royal family breakfast was served. Proud of himself, and knowing his parents would be too, Ben smiled as he grabbed a file to take with him.

His parents had already begun breakfast when he arrived. He bowed lower than normal to his father in atonement, which the king accepted with a casual nod. “Forgive my tardiness father,” Ben said as he took his seat. He set the file on a clear spot on the table and rested his hand on it. “I had a, a hunch about something last night that I wanted to confirm first.”

“What about dear?” his mother asked, buttering a slice of toast.

Ben did not immediately answer. He waited until their curiosity gave him their full attention.

“Son, what did you find?”

“There is corruption in Auradon. Someone is lying to us about the conditions on the Isle of _Calignis_.”

His parents shared a mutual look of shock and horror. “That is a very serious accusation Ben. What is your evidence?” Ben slid the file over to his father. Without prompting, Adam handed half to documents to the queen and perused the rest himself.

“What are we looking at?” his mother asked.

“These are the quarterly reports on the living conditions and prisoner status on the island. They are supposed to ensure that the prisoners are not so well off that they do not feel punished but are not so abused as to seem inhumane.”

“And that is what the reports suggest.”

“But look at the wording father,” Ben insisted, grabbing a couple pages at random. “See here, the same descriptions are used over and over. A few are entirely identical. But that is not the worst of it.” He turned the page over, pointing to his father’s signature at the bottom.

When his father saw what he was pointing to, his jaw dropped open. When Belle looked at the backs of her pages, her hand flew to her mouth with gasp. “These bare my name. But I’ve never seen these documents before in my life. And the signing dates are the same.” He flipped over other pages. “All the dates are the same. And all of them have my name.” His brow furrowed, and his hands actually trembled with rage. Ben was half afraid he might rip the evidence apart in his anger.

Fortunately, Belle was there to calm her husband down. “Adam. Adam look at me.” She placed a comforting hand on his cheek, and despite her own obvious distress, did her best to reassure him.

Adam took a deep breath, and his furrowed brows relaxed, although his frown didn’t entirely disappear. The king turned back towards his son. “Though I wish it had been under different circumstances, I am proud of you Ben. You did well bringing this to my attention.” It what appeared to be an effort to relax himself, his father made a halfhearted joke, “It would seem you had a good excuse for your tardiness after all.” All three members of the royal family smiled, some more sincerely than others. Ben’s father continued, “I suppose it is a good thing you have already decided to step down from the tourney team. Since you discovered the deception, I would like you to head the investigation into this mess. You’re clearly enthusiastic to take on more royal responsibilities, and I need someone I can trust.”

A bubble of pride swelled up within Ben, and he had to remind himself of the severity of the situation to keep the smile on his face congenial instead of exuberant. “I would be honored to father. I hope I can continue to impress you with my abilities.”

Ben began eating and the conversation drifted towards less serious matters. Then a dark thought rose up in the back of his mind, which he couldn’t shake, try as he might. _Would you be surprised to know a monster has helped you father? Would you still be proud of me if you knew of my corruption?_ The pain of his faux ring spiked, and the suddenness caused him to fumble his fork. The pain faded to its usual dullness immediately, but the thought lingered.

After breakfast, Ben had some time to himself to work on homework, then reported to his father’s office by 9:30. In sharp contrast to the shared library work-space, the official office area was oppressively tidy. The varnished oak desk had a semicircle of paraphernalia across the top. A holder for pens and other miscellaneous office supplies, a glossy landline phone, two pictures of Ben, one as a baby and the other holding a tourney trophy, and in the middle, a large, gold plated plaque proclaiming that the occupant of this desk was the reigning king of France and elected High King of Auradon. The center of the desk told the real story, completely clear except for handful of files his father had stacked in front of him.

The rest of the office had a similar, practical but unused aesthetic. There were three maps adorning the walls, one of France, one of the whole of Auradon, and one showing the whole globe, but there were no pins or other markers like the ones in the library. There were a few potted plants in the corners, fake, but great care had gone into making them look real. And the two file cabinets sat unlabeled and, Ben suspected, completely empty.

Ben took the empty guest seat across the desk from his father and waited expectantly for his lesson to begin. However, his father was appeared preoccupied with his thoughts. The man was running his finger back and forth along the spine of the files, staring intently at the cover as though they held the secrets of the universe. Ben thought if they were in a more open area, his father would be pacing. Finally, King Adam tapped his finger on the files and looked up at his son.

“I had originally planned to talk you through the finer points of England’s political landscape: those who have the greatest effect on our own kingdom, those who are most influential on their island, who we can afford to annoy, and whose support we depend on to maintain our own influence across the channel.” The king let out a weary sigh. “But it has come to my attention that there is another island we should be discussing. An island where, evidently, none of our existing information can be trusted.”

Adam grabbed the stack of files and hurled them at the wastebin by the door. For a moment the king’s face was contorted with a mixture of rage and disgust, but this time he was able to get control of himself. Only about half of them actually went in, but Ben kept his focus on his father, who met his eye with an expression of controlled calm. “Tell me son,” his father asked, “what do you know about the Isle of the Lost?”

Without further prompting, Ben jumped into the standard spiel taught at Auradon Prep. “The island had been sparsely inhabited before the Great War, and, in its aftermath, was converted into a prison by the decision of the First Council of Auradon. The prison was constructed by the fairies, especially then Fairy Godmother Helmine, to prevent anyone within from using magic to escape. The majority of the prisoners are officers or spies from Maleficent’s army, although in recent years other magic-using criminals not directly connected to the dark fairy have been incarcerated there.”

“That is the textbook response, Benjamin. In fact, I think I might have read the very same phrasing in one of your essays.” Adam’s face was tense, but a small, reassuring smile was allowed to break through for a moment. “What do you know about the island?”

“The creation of the island was a political move, as much as it was a practical one. Half of the prisoners have no significant magical talents to speak of, unless one considers traits such as sadism or charisma magical. Most of them were aligned with Maleficent and a few were acting as spies of sorts. But the evidence of the purpose of their incarceration lies in the names of their sworn enemies. For example, the former Lady Tremaine, who had retained a diminished position prior to the war, was exiled, not for her treason against the kingdom of Charmington as a whole, but for her repeated betrayal of the trust of current Queen Ella. Shan Yu was a ruthless military leader, to be feared and respected. But an ordinary iron prison would hold him as well as the Isle, so his presence on the Isle is a good faith agreement with the Emperor of China. And Gaston may be a scumbag, but if you tell me he’s trapped there because he terrorized France, not because he terrorized Mother, Father, then I would have to call you a liar.” Ben paused a moment. “Not that I blame you. I might have done worse if I was in your place.”

Some of the tension in his father’s face disappeared and shoulders slumped forward. “Then you understand the importance of Calignis. It is a constant reminder that, despite all of our bickering, all of our differences, we can stand together in opposition to the tyranny that would be life under Maleficent's rule. Some call it Mutually Assured Destruction. No one kingdom dare push another too far, because the party at loss may decide to retaliate by releasing those villains of _Calignis_ back into the world at large.

“And by the same token, we dare not mistreat those imprisoned too harshly. We are all, unfortunately, entangled in familial relations with those on the Isle. There were traitors in nearly every royal family who were seduced by the dark fairy’s promises of greater power. And not every member of every monstrous race follow the magical mistress to her prison. In this way as well we are unified.

“I tell you this, son, because you have a difficult task ahead of you. It is essential that we discover the source of the deception before any others on the Council. If they discovered there was corruption in the system…” The king rose from his chair and walked over to the window. As he looked down at the grounds, Ben tried to see his father’s expression, but Adam’s face was turned away from him. “I would trust any on the Council with my life. I have trusted many with it in the past. But while I may consider some, like Prince Phillip, close personal friends, I also know those same men are prone to rash decisions, to act without thinking. And there are some few who I have no doubt would see this as an opportunity to gain more power for themselves.” He turned back to fix his son with piercing stare. “You must find out who is responsible for this, and you must do so quickly, and quietly. Keep the investigation, keep it in house, as much as possible.”

Ben knew his father well enough to read between the lines. He stood to face him. It was only now that they were standing half a meter apart that he realize they were nearly the same height. He looked the king in the eye and said, “Father, I promise, you can trust me with this. I will find out who betrayed our trust and see them brought to justice, and I will prove that it was through no fault of our own that this deception occurred.”

Adam smiled, a genuine, warm smile, and Ben though he might have seen a tear in his father’s eye. Without warning, the man pulled the boy into a tremendous bear hug, which Ben, a little surprised, nevertheless returned. After a minute, Adam patted his son on the shoulder to break the hug and returned to the desk, pulling a fresh, albeit much smaller, stack of files out of one of the drawers.

“These are members of other investigative teams working for the kingdom. Each of these men and women I would trust my deepest secrets to with my dying breath. I want you to pick two or three for your own team. Look them over, and tell me your choices at dinner tonight.”

“Of course,” Ben complied, taking the papers and heading towards the door. With his hand on the door knob, a thought struck him. “Father, once the traitors are found, there may be doubt as to whether any information about the island has ever been accurate. I would like to volunteer to investigate _Calignis_ personally, to quash any rumors ahead of time.”

His father didn’t immediately respond and, when Ben looked at him, he saw the king’s eyebrows were drawn in. “That is an option, Benjamin. I will consider it. For now, I would like to focus on the investigation at hand.”

“Yes father,” Ben bowed slightly, then left the office. He was some way down the hall when he heard a dull thump coming from behind him. He thought it might have been from his father’s office, and was tempted to investigate, but when the noise didn’t repeat, he decided he must have imagined it.

The prince thought he had had enough surprises for the day, but when he arrived at his room he found one of the staff was just closing the door behind her. She was about the same age as him, and must have been new because he didn’t recognize her, and would have remembered someone with such shockingly blue eyes. She looked just as startled to see him as he her, and curtsied so low her knees almost touched the ground. “I’m sorry Your Highness. There was a package for you in the post, and I was asked to deliver it to your room. The door was unlocked, so I thought it would be best to leave it inside.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile, calming her obvious fears at having overstepped her boundaries. “I appreciate you bringing it in. Did you leave it on my desk?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she answered with another curtsy.

“Excellent,” he said, politely moving past her to get to his door. She curtsied a third time and left. Shaking his head a little at the new girl’s unnecessary formality, Ben stepped into his room and tossed his father’s files on his desk. Then he examined the package the servant had left.

It was a large, roughly rectangular object wrapped in unmarked brown paper. Curious, Ben turned it over, but there wasn’t anything on the other side either. He poked his head out to ask how the package had arrived, but the girl was already gone. He frowned slightly as he ripped the paper open, to find a large book tumbling out onto his desk. It was a thick, heavy tome bound in dark brown leather. The title was etched into the front cover in curving, glittering letters. _In Our Own Skin:_ Hada Henkano _Folk Stories and Lore._

Ben’s breath caught in his throat. He knew who the book was from. Or, at least he hoped he did. Because if it wasn’t the Headmistress, then it was a sign from someone else that they knew his secret. Hardly daring to breath, he cracked open the cover to find an index card had been placed inside. He breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized his teacher’s handwriting.

> Benjamin -
> 
> I remembered last night that I had this book in my collection, and thought it would do you more good than me. Consider it a gift, to make up for my earlier lapse in judgment. All I ask is that you treat it well, as it is far older than you are.
> 
> Humbly Yours -
> 
> Professor Helmine

After making a mental note to himself that he would need to stop sometime before dinner to look over his father’s files, Ben propped himself on his bed and began reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to screaminginternally, another author on this site for the character Adrian. They are a much better author than I.
> 
> Also, this story does not currently have a formal beta reader, just some friends I'm taking advantage of. If you have time and are willing, my email address is in my profile.


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